"Why, you talk as if, as if you were in love, too! I wish you _were_! We could sympathise with each other so beautifully. _Are_ you in love, Cornelia? You never said so before." Cornelia turned to the window and gazed out on the forbidden grass of the Park. Her face was hidden from view, and she answered by another question, put in slow, thoughtful tones.--"What is love? You seem to feel pretty certain that yours is the genuine article. Define it for me! How do you feel when you are in dear Geoffrey's society?" "Happy! so wonderfully happy that I seem to walk on air. Everything seems beautiful, and I love everybody, and long to make them as happy as myself. Nothing troubles me any more. It seems as if nothing could _ever_ trouble me. Geoffrey's there! He is like a great big rock, which will shelter me all my life." "Do you feel one moment that it's the cutest thing in the world to sit right there in the shade and be fussed over, and the next as if you wanted to knock the rock down _flat_, and march away down your own road? Do you feel blissful one moment and the next all worked up, and fit to scratch? When he's kinder big and superior, and the natural protector, do you feel ugly; or inclined to cave in, and honour and obey?" Elma stared at her with shocked blue eyes. "Of _course_ I'll obey! Geoffrey is so wise and clever. He knows so much better than I. I'm only too thankful to let him decide for us both. You talk so strangely, Cornelia; I don't understand--" Cornelia swung round quickly, and kissed her upon the cheek. "Never mind, sweetling!" she said fondly, "don't _try_ to understand! You are better off as you are. It is women like you who have the best time in the world, and are the most loved. I wish I were like you, but I'm not, so what's the use of repining. I am as I wor' created!" She laughed, but the laugh had a forced, unnatural sound. Elma saw with dismay a glimmer of tears in the golden eyes. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.