"He's the dearest creature in the world. He's on his guard, he's prudent, he tested himself by separation. Then he came back to England in love with her. She might have had it all!" "I'm glad she didn't get it _that_ way." "She had only to wait--to put an end to their artifice, harmless as it was, for the present, but still wait. She might have broken off in a way that would have made it come on again better." "That's exactly what she didn't want." "I mean as a quite separate incident," said Mrs. Gosselin. "_I_ loathed their artifice, harmless as it was!" her son observed. Mrs. Gosselin for a moment made no answer; then she turned away from the fire into which she had been pensively gazing with the ejaculation "Poor dear Guy!" "I can't for the life of me see that he's to be pitied." "He'll marry Charlotte Firminger." "If he's such an ass as that it's his own affair." "Bessie Whiteroy will bring it about." "What has _she_ to do with it?" "She wants to get hold of him." "Then why will she marry him to another woman?" "Because in that way she can select the other--a woman he won't care for. It will keep him from taking some one that's nicer." Hugh Gosselin stared--he laughed aloud. "Lord, mamma, you're deep!" "Indeed I am, I see much more." "What do you see?" "Mary won't in the least care for America. Don't tell me she will," Mrs. Gosselin added, "for you know perfectly you don't believe it." "She'll care for her husband, she'll care for everything that concerns him." "He's very nice, in his little way he's delightful. But as an alternative to Lord Beaupré he's ridiculous!" "Mary's in a position in which she has nothing to do with alternatives." "For the present, yes, but not for ever. She'll have enough of your New York; they'll come back here. I see the future dark," Mrs. Gosselin pursued, inexorably musing. "Tell me then all you see." "She'll find poor Guy wretchedly married, and she'll be very sorry for him." "Do you mean that he'll make love to her? You give a queer account of your paragon." "He'll value her sympathy. I see life as it is." "You give a queer account of your daughter." "I don't give _any_ account. She'll behave perfectly," Mrs. Gosselin somewhat inconsequently subjoined. "Then what are you afraid of?" "She'll be sorry for him, and it will be all a worry." "A worry to whom?" The good lady was silent a moment. "To me," she replied. "And to you as well." "Then they mustn't come back." "That will be a greater worry still." "Surely not a greater--a smaller. We'll put up with the lesser evil." "Nothing will prevent her coming to a sense, eventually, of what _might_ have been. And when they _both_ recognize it----" "It will be very dreadful!" Hugh exclaimed, completing gaily his mother's phrase. "I don't see, however," he added, "what in all this you do with Bessie Whiteroy." "Oh, he'll be tired of her; she's hard, she'll have become despotic. I see life as it is," the good lady repeated.