“Ah, do you remember when you told me coming to her was an experiment, and you thought it might be better for the old friendship if you did not accept the situation?” “You triumph at last, David; but I can confess now that for the first four years I held to that opinion, and felt that my poor Carey and I could have loved each other better if our relative situations had been different, and we had not seen so much of one another. My life used to seem to me half-unspoken remonstrance, half-truckling compliance, and nothing but our mutual loyalty to old times, and dear little Babie’s affection, could have borne us through.” “And her extraordinary sweetness and humility, Mary.” “Yes, I allow that. Very few employers would have treated me as she did, knowing how I regretted much that went on in her household. However, when I met her at Pontresina, after the boys’ terrible adventure in Switzerland, there was an indefinable change. I cannot tell whether it is owing to the constant being with such a boy as Armine, while he was for more than a year between life and death, or whether it was from the influence of living with Mrs. Evelyn; but she has certainly ever since had the one thing that was wanting to all her sweetness and charm.” “I never thought so!” “No; but you were never a fair judge. I think she has owed unspeakably much to Mrs. Evelyn, who, so far as I can see, is the first person who, at any rate since the break-up of the original home, made conscientiousness, or indeed religion, appear winning to her, neither stiff, nor censorious, nor goody.” “Is not this close combination of the two families rather odd?” “I don’t think it is. Poor Lord Fordham is very fond of Armine, and he hates the being driven abroad every winter so much, that the meeting Armine is the only pleasant ingredient. And it has been convenient for Sydney to join our school-room party. I was very glad also, that these last two summers, there have been visits at Fordham. Staying there has given Mrs. Brownlow and the younger ones some insight into what the life at Belforest might be, but never has been; and they will not be kept out of it any longer.” “Then they are going home!” “After the London season.” “Why, little Barbara is surely not coming out yet?” “No; but Elvira is.” “Ah! by the bye, was I not told that I was to have two weddings?” “Allen wished it, but the Elf won’t hear of it. She says she had no notion of turning into a stupid old married woman before she has had any fun.” “Does she care for him?” “I don’t think she is capable of caring for any one much. I don’t know whether she may ever soften with age; but--” “Say it, Mary--out with it.”