"You are the echo of my youth, when I, too, knew the wild spring-time of love. So, dear, I need not tell you that you may count upon my doing what I can for you both." Then we talked and talked. "I must admit," she said at last, "that I was prejudiced in your favor for your dear father's sake, but in any case my opinion of Robert's judgment is so high, I would have been prepared to find you charming, even without that. He has the rarest qualities, he is the truest, most untarnished soul in this world. "I don't say," she went on, "that he is not just as the other young men of his age and class; he is no Galahad, as no one can be with truth who is human and lives in the world. And I dare say kind friends will tell you stories of actresses and other diversions, but I who know him tell you, you have won the best and greatest darling in London." "Oh, I am sure of it," I said. "I don't know why he loves me so much, he has seen me so little; but it began from the very first minute, I think, with both of us. He is such a nice shape." She laughed. Then she asked me if she was right in supposing all these _contretemps_ we had had were the doing of Lady Ver. "You need not answer, dear," she said. "I know Ianthe. She is in love with Robert herself; she can't help it; she means no harm, but she often gets these attacks, and they pass off. I think she is devoted to Sir Charles, really." "Yes," I said. "It is a queer world we live in, child," she continued, "and true love and suitability of character are such a rare combination, but from what I can judge, you and Robert possess them." "Oh, how dear of you to say so!" I exclaimed. "You don't think I _must_ be bad, then, because of my coloring?" "What a ridiculous idea, you sweet child!" she laughed. "Who has told you that!" "Oh, Mrs. Carruthers always said so--and--and the old gentlemen, and--even Mr. Carruthers hinted I probably had some odd qualities. But you do think I shall be able to be fairly good--don't you?" She was amused, I could see, but I was serious. "I think you probably might have been a little wicked if you had married a man like Mr. Carruthers," she said, smiling, "but with Robert I am sure you will be good. He will never leave you a moment, and he will love you so much you won't have time for anything else." "Oh, that is what I shall like--being loved," I said. "I think all women like that," she sighed. "We could all of us be good if the person we love went on being demonstrative. It is the cold, matter-of-fact devotion that kills love, and makes one want to look elsewhere to find it again." Then we talked of possibilities about the duke. I told her I knew his _toquade_, and she, of course, was fully acquainted with mamma's history. "I must tell you, dear, I fear he will be difficult," she said. "He is a strangely prejudiced person, and obstinate to a degree, and he worships Robert, as we all do."