‘So you did not think me very, very nice, Cara? I flattered myself you did like me. For my part, I never criticised you, or thought anything wanting. You were Cara--that was enough for me. I should have liked to think that simply because I was Oswald----’ ‘So it was! If I had not liked you because you were Oswald, should I ever have ventured to say _that_ to you?’ asked Cara, with a little indignation. ‘But you may be very fond of people, and yet see that something would make them still nicer. How happy your mother will be--and Edward----’ ‘Edward may go to Jericho!’ said Oswald, with some indignation. ‘What right has he to set himself up as a judge of his elder brother? I can see with the back of my head that he is watching us now, and furious because I am talking to you. You are too gentle, Cara, and have too much consideration for him. A boy like that should be kept in his place--not but that he’s a very good fellow when you don’t bring him forward too much. I wrote a little thing last night that I want to read to you. Shall you be alone at twelve to-morrow if I come in? Do something with Aunt Cherry; send her out shopping--all ladies from the country have shopping to do; or to her dentist, if that is what she has come to town for, poor dear old soul. But anyhow be alone, Cara, to-morrow. I want your opinion of my last poem. The subject is a face that I met by accident in the street--a complete Perugino, as if it had stepped out of a picture; though I don’t know which it resembles most--one of the angels in that great picture in the Louvre, or a Madonna somewhere else--but such colour and such sentiment! I want to read them to you, and to hear what you think.’ ‘Yes, Oswald; but tell me about this other thing, this change in your mind.’ ‘It is all the same thing; my heart is full of it. You think me mysterious; but I can’t talk freely to-night with all these people so close round us. Listen, Cara,’ he said, approaching his face close to hers, and speaking in a half-whisper of profoundest confidentialness--‘Listen, I want your sympathy. I think I have arrived at a crisis in my life.’