Now the doctor was gone, but only for a time. He would soon run over again, for a peep at his "Eyebright!" He had adopted with readiness the home pet name. And in no long time, the wedding would have to be discussed, Robert having intimated pretty plainly that so far as his voice in the matter was concerned, he was in no mind for a long delay. Meanwhile, he had invited Colin Mackenzie to spend two or three weeks with him in Clifton by way of needed change, and for the purpose of their becoming more fully acquainted. When he had vanished, and not before, Mrs. Landor appeared, for a good chat with Euphrasia. "I want the child to tell me all about it," she said. And they were left alone together. "So here is the fruit of your month's absence, little Eyebright!" she repeated. "And not a word to any of us beforehand!" "How could I?" asked Euphrasia, blushing. "I didn't know—really. I only knew—just that I liked him very much. And he only spoke in the very last moment." "Three seconds before the train got in! Yes, I heard. A most original mode of proceeding! If your answer had been a 'No,' he could have decamped instantaneously, and never been heard of more!" "He went to see you." Euphrasia spoke wistfully. "He did; and I liked him—so far as one can tell in a quarter of an hour. I am not often mistaken in first impressions. Perhaps I might even like him very much indeed, if I knew him very well indeed." "It seems almost too much happiness to be true!" "Ah,—I wouldn't say that. It springs from a false idea. Nothing is ever too great happiness to be true. We are made for happiness. God loves us so well that He would fain have us always happy. Only we do not always use the happiness rightly, and so we cannot always be trusted with an abundant supply of it." "I hope I shall use this rightly. Oh, I hope I shall. Robert is so good and kind." "That is right. You ought to feel so. Now tell me all about him, child." Euphrasia obeyed to the best of her power, and at least she succeeded in showing the completeness of her own trust in Robert Wells. "But doesn't it seem—" she asked, "doesn't it almost seem as if I were rewarded for being naughty? I did not half think that I was right to go to Clifton at all; and yet I went. Was that right? And yet, if I had not gone, I should never have known Robert!" "You cannot say that. He and you might have met elsewhere." "But still—"