"I hope you'll think it so. I've been engaging myself"--puff,--puff--"to Lizzie Crowe." A cloud of puffs between his mother's face and his own. When they cleared away, Jack felt his mother's eyes. Her work was in her lap. "To be married, you know," he added. In Mrs. Ford's view, like the king in that of the British Constitution, her only son could do no wrong. Prejudice is a stout bulwark against surprise. Moreover, Mrs. Ford's motherly instinct had not been entirely at fault. Still, it had by no means kept pace with fact. She had been silent, partly from doubt, partly out of respect for her son. As long as John did not doubt of himself, he was right. Should he come to do so, she was sure he would speak. And now, when he told her the matter was settled, she persuaded herself that he was asking her advice. "I've been expecting it," she said, at last. "You have? why didn't you speak?" "Well, John, I can't say I've been hoping it." "Why not?" "I am not sure of Lizzie's heart," said Mrs. Ford, who, it may be well to add, was very sure of her own. Jack began to laugh. "What's the matter with her heart?" "I think Lizzie's shallow," said Mrs. Ford; and there was that in her tone which betokened some satisfaction with this adjective. "Hang it! she is shallow," said Jack. "But when a thing's shallow, you can see to the bottom. Lizzie doesn't pretend to be deep. I want a wife, mother, that I can understand. That's the only wife I can love. Lizzie's the only girl I ever understood, and the first I ever loved. I love her very much,--more than I can explain to you." "Yes, I confess it's inexplicable. It seems to me," she added, with a bad smile, "like infatuation." Jack did not like the smile; he liked it even less than the remark. He smoked steadily for a few moments, and then he said,-- "Well, mother, love is notoriously obstinate, you know. We shall not be able to take the same view of this subject: suppose we drop it." "Remember that this is your last evening at home, my son," said Mrs. Ford. "I do remember. Therefore I wish to avoid disagreement." There was a pause. The young man smoked, and his mother sewed, in silence. "I think my position, as Lizzie's guardian," resumed Mrs. Ford, "entitles me to an interest in the matter." "Certainly, I acknowledged your interest by telling you of our engagement." Further pause. "Will you allow me to say," said Mrs. Ford, after a while, "that I think this a little selfish?" "Allow you? Certainly, if you particularly desire it. Though I confess it isn't very pleasant for a man to sit and hear his future wife pitched into,--by his own mother, too." "John, I am surprised at your language." "I beg your pardon," and John spoke more gently. "You mustn't be surprised at anything from an accepted lover.--I'm sure you misconceive her. In fact, mother, I don't believe you know her."