“Yes,” she agreed, “but then I am growing old, and the fires of life have died down. I must tell you, Letty, that I do not think, and never will think, that this step you are taking is a _wise_ one. Of course, your motherly heart is empty without the child; but you are expatriating yourself on her account, you have relinquished almost every shilling in the world on her behalf, you have given up your friends, and you have given up Lancelot Lumley. I hope, as the years advance, that you will find that Cara has been worth this sacrifice, and that when old enough to be a companion, she will return your devotion four-fold.” “But, Cousin Maude, I cannot see _why_ you think I am making a mistake?” “I have longer sight than you: it is unnatural for a girl of one-and-twenty to cut herself adrift from the world, and devote her life absolutely to a baby of four. As I said to Blagdon, I have no doubt these things were done in years gone by,--when a wife’s whole existence was concentrated on her kitchen, and her nursery; but now we live in more advanced times; every woman has her place in the world, her individual life--and, so to speak, her hand to play, and you are sitting down to take the part of Dummy!” “Oh, Cousin Maude,” she protested, “how can you say so? I have this darling child, she will be all in all to me; it will be my pleasure to devote myself to her, to work for her, and to bring her up to be _good_. Think if I had left her with Hugo, or Hugo’s sister, to be educated under their influence. How soon her mind would be corrupted; what examples she would see before her! I daresay by the time she was sixteen she would be as bold and boisterous and evil-minded as the worst--at least, I shall save her from _that_.” “I hope so, my dear, and I agree with you, that the society of Hugo Blagdon, his sister, and his friends, would be a deplorable education for any girl.” After a pause she continued: “You are getting back your looks, Letty, and your youth, and are no longer a stricken, haggard creature of thirty, but once more a girl in your springtime--you are divorced, and free. Supposing you were to come across somebody you really love, and were to marry again?” “Oh, never, never! Besides, I don’t think a woman who has been divorced, should marry.” “That is a much-debated question. And what if Lancelot Lumley were to return, and claim you? He has gone through the furnace for your sake. His poor old father has entirely lost his memory, and fortunately has never heard of the great Blagdon scandal. The last time I saw Frances, it seemed to me that she was changed; there were lines in her face, and she looked out of spirits, and down on her luck.”