‘Then you had better find somebody else to talk to,’ said Daphne. ‘I never could pin my mind to a dull book; my thoughts go dancing off like butterflies, skimming away like swallows. I could no more plod through a history, or a volume of “Voyages in Timbuctoo,” or “Sir Somebody’s Memoirs at the Court of Queen Joan of Naples,” or “A Waiting-woman’s Recollections of Peter the Great,” than I could fly. There are a few characters in history I like to read about—in short instalments. Napoleon the Great, for instance. There is a hero for you—bloodthirsty, but nice. Mary Stuart, Julius Cæsar, Sir Walter Raleigh, Columbus, Shakespeare. These shine out like stars. But the dull dead level of history—the going out of the Whigs and the coming in of the Tories, the everlasting battles in the Netherlands or the Punjaub! I envy you your faculty of taking interest in such dry-as-dust stuff, but I cannot imitate you.’ ‘I like to be able to talk to papa—and to Gerald, by-and-by,’ said Madoline shyly. ‘Does papa talk of the Punjaub?’ ‘Not often, dear; but in order to understand the events of one’s own day, it is necessary to know the history of the past. Papa likes to discuss public affairs, and I generally read the _Times_ to him every morning, as you know.’ ‘Yes,’ answered Daphne; ‘I know you are his slave.’ ‘Daphne, it is my delight to be useful to him.’ ‘Yes; that is the sort of woman you are, always sacrificing your own happiness for other people. But I love you for it, dearest,’ exclaimed Daphne, with one of her sudden gushes of affection. ‘Only don’t ask me to improve myself, darling, now that I am tasting perfect liberty for the first time in my life. Think how I have been ground and polished and governessed and preached at, and back-boarded,’ drawing up her slim figure straight as an arrow, ‘and dumb-belled, and fifth-positioned, for so many weary years of my life, and let me have my fling of idleness at home. I began to wonder if I really had a home, my father kept me away from it so long. Let me be idle and happy, Lina, for a little while; I shall mend by-and-by.’ ‘My pet, do you suppose I don’t wish you to be happy? But I don’t want your education to come to a full stop, because you have left school.’ ‘Let me learn to be like you, if I can. There could be no higher education than that.’ ‘Flatterer!’ ‘No, Lina, no one can flatter perfection.’ Madoline stopped her with a kiss, blushing at her praise. And then they turned and walked slowly back to the house, across the dewy lawn, where the shadows of the deodaras had deepened and lengthened with the rising of the moon. Daphne paused on the terrace to look back at the low-lying river gleaming between its willowy banks—so beautiful and ghostly a thing in the moonlight that it almost seemed as if it belonged to another world. ‘How lovely it is out of doors!’ sighed Daphne. ‘Doesn’t it seem foolishness to shut oneself up in a house? Stay a little longer, Lina.’