‘Ah, I thought I was right!’ said Lady Baker; at which Geoffrey blushed like a girl. ‘Yes, she was positively beautiful; and if she had sat like a statue to be looked at and admired, she would have been an attraction; but her talent and beauty together made her almost divine. My heart was drawn to her at once. I called at Wykhamston vicarage next day, and invited Mr. Davoren and his daughter to my next dinner-party; and then I asked Janet to spend a long day with me alone—not a creature to be allowed to disturb us—for, as I told her, I wanted really to know her. We spent that day together in my boudoir, giving ourselves up to the delight of music and intellectual conversation. I found Janet all soul; full of imagination and poetry, romantic, enthusiastic, a poet’s ideal heroine. I made her sing Mozart’s Masses to me until my soul was steeped in melody. In a word, we discovered that there was perfect sympathy between us, and I did not rest till I had persuaded Mr. Davoren to let his daughter come to stay with me. He was averse from this. He talked of the disparity in our modes of life, feared that the luxury and gaiety of Mardenholme would make the girl’s home seem poor and dull by comparison; but I overruled his objections, appealed to the mother’s pride in her child, hinted at the great things which might come of Janet’s introduction to society, and had my own way. Fatal persistence! How often have I looked back to that day and regretted my selfish pertinacity! But I really did think I might be the means of getting the dear girl a good husband.’ ‘And you succeeded in uniting her to a villain,’ said Geoffrey bitterly; then remembering himself he added hastily, ‘Pray pardon my impertinence, Lady Baker, but this is a subject upon which I feel strongly.’ ‘You foolish young man!’ exclaimed Lady Baker in her grand way, that air of calm superiority with which she had gone through the world, the proud serenity of mind which accompanies the possession of unlimited means. ‘Do you think if I had not read your secret at the very first that I should take the trouble to tell you all this? Well, the dear girl came to stay with me. I was charmed with her. Sir Horatio even liked her, although he rarely takes notice of any one unconnected with ologies. He showed her his specimens, recommended her to study geology—which he said would open her mind—and made himself remarkably pleasant whenever he found her with me.’ Lady Baker paused, sighed thoughtfully, and then took up the thread of her recollections.