"Oh, I can persuade Percy, for once, that he wants his mother to go with him to the Queen's Hall. And I'll make Lady Kellynch think it's rather a shame of her to take my place; then she'll enjoy it. We'll arrange it for next week. I'm expecting her this afternoon." "Oh, are you? I'm always rather afraid she doesn't like me," said Madeline pensively. "She doesn't _dis_like you. She doesn't dislike anybody; only, simply, you don't exist for her. My mother-in-law really believes that the whole of humanity consists of her own family; first, her late husband; then Percy, then Clifford, the boy at school, and, in a very slight degree, me too, because I'm married to Percy. I do like Clifford, though he's a spoilt boy, and selfish. But he's great fun. How his mother adores him! I hope she won't stay long to-day--Nigel will be here at six." Madeline fell into a reverie, a sort of mental swoon. Then she suddenly woke up and said with great animation,-- "No, I suppose I dare not hope it!--I believe I should expire with joy!--but he _never_ will! But if he _did_ propose, how do you suppose he'd do it, Bertha?" "Heaven knows--quote Browning, I suppose," said Bertha, "I don't often meet that type. I can only guess. Do you care so much, Madeline?" "_Do_ I care!" "And you believe it's the real thing?" "I know it is--on my side; it's incurable." "Everyone says Rupert's a good fellow, but he seems to me a little--what shall I say?--too elaborate. Too urbane; too ornate. He expresses himself so dreadfully well! I don't believe he ever uses a shorter word than _individuality_!" "Oh, I don't care what he is, I want him--I want him!" cried Madeline. "Well! I suppose you know what you want. It isn't as though you were always in love with somebody or other; as a rule, a girl of your age, if she can't have the person she wants, can be very quickly consoled if you give her someone else instead. Now, you've never had even a fancy before. _I_ may not (I don't) see the charm of Rupert, but it must be there; probably there's something in his temperament that's needed by yours--something that he can supply to you that no one else can. If you really want him, you must have him, darling," said Bertha, with resolution. "You shall!" "How can you say that; how can you make him care for me if he doesn't?" "I don't know, but I shall. It's certain; don't worry; and do what I tell you. Mind, I think that there are many other people far more amusing, besides being better matches from the worldly point of view--like Charlie Hillier, for instance--but the great thing is that you care for your Rupert; and I don't believe you'll change." They were never demonstrative to each other, and Madeline only looked at her with trusting, beaming gratitude. Bertha was indeed convinced that this mania for Rupert was the real thing; it would never fade from fulfilment, nor even die if discouraged; it would always burn unalterably bright.