"The guard," said Miss Garscube. "'Who kissed the place to make it well?'" he continued. "You might have been killed," said Miss Adamson. "That would not have been a pretty story to tell," he said. "I shall need to wait till I get home for the means of cure: 'my mother and I' will manage it. You're not of a pitiful nature, Miss Garscube." "I keep my pity for a pitiful occasion," she said. "If you had grazed your hand, I would have applied the prescribed cure." "Well, but I'm very glad I have not grazed my hand," "So am I," he said. "Let me see it," she said. He held it out. "Would something not need to be done for it?" she asked. "Yes. Is it interesting--as interesting as the thorn?" "It is nothing," said Lady Arthur: "a little lukewarm water is all that it needs;" and she thought, "That lad will never do anything either for himself or to add to the prestige of the family. I hope his cousins have more ability." IV. But what these cousins were to turn out no one knew. They had that rank which gives a man what is equivalent to a start of half a lifetime over his fellows, and they promised well; but they were only boys as yet, and Nature puts forth many a choice blossom and bud that never comes to maturity, or, meeting with blight or canker on the way, turns out poor fruit. The eldest, a lad in his teens, was traveling on the Continent with a tutor: the second, a boy who had been always delicate, was at home on account of his health. George Eildon was intimate with both, and loved them with a love as true as that he bore to Alice Garscube: it never occurred to him that they had come into the world to keep him out of his inheritance. He would have laughed at such an idea. Many people would have said that he was laughing on the wrong side of his mouth: the worldly never can understand the unworldly. Mr. Eildon gave Miss Garscube credit for being at least as unworldly as himself: he believed thoroughly in her genuineness, her fresh, unspotted nature; and, the wish being very strong, he believed that she had a kindness for him. When he and his hand got home he found it quite able to write her a letter, or rather not so much a letter as a burst of enthusiastic aspiration, asking her to marry him. She was startled; and never having decided on anything in her life, she carried this letter direct to Lady Arthur. "Here's a thing," she said, "that I don't know what to think of." "What kind of thing, Alice?" "A letter." "Who is it from?" "Mr. Eildon." "Indeed! I should not think a letter from him would be a complicated affair or difficult to understand." "Neither is it: perhaps you would read it?" "Certainly, if you wish it." When she had read the document she said, "Well I never gave George credit for much wisdom, but I did not think he was foolish enough for a thing like this; and I never suspected it. Are you in love too?" and Lady Arthur laughed heartily: it seemed to strike her in a comic light.