‘The world, dear boy, abounds in the most dreadful women. And, indeed, why God made so many women at all--and most of them so plain--nobody has ever yet been able to tell me. There was a horrid creature who made your poor dear father think he was in love with her, as they call it. But, of course, he was nothing of the kind. For as soon as she was safely drowned and out of the way, he forgot all about her, and came and married me, and no two people were ever happier together in the world than he and I. Ours was a case of true love, dear boy, if ever there was one. And I am certain yours will be the same. It is my earnest prayer, dear, and my sure hope. Gundred is the most thoroughly nice, good girl.’ ‘And it would not matter if a shade of dullness sometimes seemed to fall between us?’ By this time Lady Adela was, for a wonder, awake to the purport of her son’s questionings. Her excursion into the past had brought her back refreshed into the present. ‘Kingston, dear,’ she answered, ‘what else would you expect from a really nice-minded girl? She is not a married woman yet. The time has not yet come for her to enter fully into your life, or you into hers. Remember how your poor dear father and I used to sit silent together for hours, never saying a word.’ ‘Yes; but you did not feel the want of words. I think we sometimes almost do. That makes all the difference.’ ‘Words will come, dear--words and all other blessings in their time. Gundred will be the greatest help and comfort to you in your life, and I am sure you love each other tenderly.’ Kingston suddenly began to feel the difficulties of the dialogue. To confide is all very well and comfortable, so long as the confidant is not listening or understanding. The moment he shows signs of noticing what is said, the mortifying indelicacy of the proceeding becomes plain. Finding his mother unwontedly awake to his remarks, Kingston’s sensitiveness drew in its horns. ‘Oh, thanks, my dear,’ he said lightly. ‘I am sure everything will turn out for the best. I am the luckiest fellow alive, and don’t suppose I forget it.’ ‘Some people always touch wood,’ said Lady Adela meditatively, ‘when they say a thing like that. Such a silly superstition. But, still, there may be something in it.’ She rapped the tea-table firmly. Mother and son had been so absorbed in their dialogue that they had not heard the hall door bell ring. Suddenly the door opened, and Miss Mortimer was announced. Fresh, crisp, pleasant as ever, Gundred entered the room and kissed her future mother-in-law. ‘Dear Lady Adela,’ she said, ‘I felt I must come round and see how you were. This heat--so ridiculously trying for a climate like ours.’ Then she turned to Kingston. ‘And Kingston,’ she added; ‘how is he?’ ‘Poor gentleman,’ replied her lover tragically. ‘Mr. Darnley has been quite on his last legs lately. But he recovered miraculously all of a sudden, as soon as he saw Mapleton showing somebody into the room.’