For the first few moments I experienced a thrill of altogether agreeable surprise. I really had no idea my figure was so good. 'Tall, _élancée_, head well shaped and well poised,' I thought, pleasantly checking off my perfections up to that point. With my face, I was far from being as well satisfied. I tried to persuade myself that it was because I was more accustomed to it, and that such familiarity breeds contempt; but is one ever familiar with one's own face? I can only say I was looking very discontentedly at mine, forgetting that the very discontent was reflecting itself. Too much squareness about the brow, too decided a mouth and chin, and eyes--well, if they ever looked soft, as well as large and dark, _I_ had not seen it. Then the complexion, it might do for some people, but Philip's wife ought to have more colouring and softness, more general loveliness than this. Philip's wife! She ought to be a child of light, 'beautiful with all the soul's expansion'--the expression of her face ever varying with the dainty colouring of her graceful poetic thoughts. I was still picturing to myself the kind of woman Philip's wife ought to be, frowning the while at a dark discontented face, frowning discontentedly back at me, when the door was softly opened, and turning hastily round, my eyes fell upon a young girl standing upon the threshold. 'I beg your pardon; I do not think you heard me knock, and I could not wait. I am Lilian.' How shall I describe Lilian Farrar? I _have_ described her! A child of light, 'beautiful with all the soul's expansion'--the expression of her face ever varying with the dainty colouring of her graceful poetic thoughts. I need only add that she had deep-blue eyes, shaded by long lashes, straight, delicately chiselled little nose, sweet sensitive mouth, pale-brown hair, and the figure of a graceful child just merging into womanhood. 'May I come in, please?' Might love and loveliness and youth and all that is true, and sweet, and good, come in? But I only bowed, and held out my hand with a smile. 'I am so sorry I did not know when to expect you, Miss Haddon.' 'I came earlier than I ought to have done.' 'O no; pray do not think that; only I should like to have been at the station to make friends at the beginning.' 'Let us call this the beginning.' She drew nearer to me, and in a caressing child-like way, lifted up her mouth to be kissed, as she said: 'Welcome to Fairview.' I am not considered to be demonstrative; but I know I kissed her as heartily as she kissed me, quite understanding that this was not like an ordinary first meeting. Then she gently impelled me towards a low chair, and knelt down beside me. 'If you could only know how very anxious I have been, and how relieved I am.' 'Relieved?' I asked, bending down to get a better view of the sweet face. 'Yes; indeed I am.' 'Then you can in a measure understand _my_ sensations,' I replied, smiling down into her eyes.