“I should hope not, I should hope not, my dear Mrs. Norton; though I don’t doubt that you knew all about it in your day. But Sophy is young enough to begin her experiences, and I trust we shall bring them to a close very suddenly. Now I am not going to keep you in suspense. Mrs. Norton, you know him very well. You have had ways of seeing how much we think of him. My wife has the very highest opinion--and you know in many things Mrs. Hunstanton is perhaps more _difficile_ than I am. His means are not great. He has enough to be very comfortable, but not enough to make a great show according to our English notions” (here Sophy’s countenance fell a little, for, to be sure, where everything was so vague, it was easy to add riches to the fabulous unknown wooer); “but Sophy is not the girl to mind that: and he belongs to a very good family. She will be able to call cousin with half the princes in the Italian peerage.” “Mr. Hunstanton!” cried Mrs. Norton, breathless; “what is all this in comparison to more essential things? It depends entirely upon Sophy’s feelings; and how can we tell till we know--not what he is, but who he is?” “My dear lady, am not I just going to tell you? Sophy knows who he is. She has found it out in his eyes, as I did. Why, who should it be but Pandolfini? And a man any girl might be proud of--a fellow--though I say it that shouldn’t--who knows English as well, and is as fond of it as of his own language--a most accomplished fellow! I verily believe just the best man living, and so modest you would never find it out. There’s the lover I bring you, Sophy; and if you don’t appreciate him, you are not the girl I took you for. He deserves--simply the most charming wife in the world.” “The Cavaliere!” cried Sophy under her breath. In the first moment of awe the colour fled from her cheeks. “Mr. Pandolfini!” cried her aunt. Then she paused and looked at Sophy, who sat breathless, the blush coming back again. “Mr. Hunstanton, I am sure you will not doubt we are very sensible of the honour he does us. Not that my Sophy would not be an ornament to any family; but till I know her feelings---- Yes; he is a very charming person indeed. I have the greatest respect for him--and admiration--a man that any one might be proud of, as you say; but till I know my Sophy’s feelings----my darling?” the little woman grew tremulous. It was a situation which she had never realised. “Oh, auntie!” cried Sophy, throwing herself into Mrs. Norton’s arms. The girl laid her head upon her aunt’s shoulder, and melted into sobs. “Oh, I am not good enough! I am not clever enough! It cannot be me he cares for.” “My darling! when Mr. Hunstanton tells you----” “Oh, it must be some mistake--it must be some mistake!” cried Sophy, burrowing with her head in her aunt’s bosom. Mrs. Norton encircled her with tender arms. She felt that her child was behaving herself at this wonderful emergency exactly as she ought.