he Baroness was not at all like that--not at all.
Though different, however, she was very wonderful, and Gertrude felt
herself most suggestively corrected. It was strange, nevertheless, that
Felix should speak in that positive way about his sister's beauty.
"I think I shall think her handsome," Gertrude said. "It must be very
interesting to know her. I don't feel as if I ever could."

"Ah, you will know her well; you will become great friends," Felix
declared, as if this were the easiest thing in the world.

"She is very graceful," said Gertrude, looking after the Baroness,
suspended to her father's arm. It was a pleasure to her to say that any
one was graceful.

Felix had been looking about him. "And your little cousin, of
yesterday," he said, "who was so wonderfully pretty--what has become of
her?"

"She is in the parlor," Gertrude answered. "Yes, she is very pretty."
She felt as if it were her duty to take him straight into the house,
to where he might be near her cousin. But after hesitating a moment she
lingered still. "I did n't believe you would come back," she said.

"Not come back!" cried Felix, laughing. "You did n't know, then, the
impression made upon this susceptible heart of mine."

She wondered whether he meant the impression her cousin Lizzie had made.
"Well," she said, "I did n't think we should ever see you again."

"And pray what did you think would become of me?"

"I don't know. I thought you would melt away."

"That 's a compliment to my solidity! I melt very often," said Felix,
"but there is always something left of me."

"I came and waited for you by the door, because the others did,"
Gertrude went on. "But if you had never appeared I should not have been
surprised."

"I hope," declared Felix, looking at her, "that you would have been
disappointed."

She looked at him a little, and shook her head. "No--no!"

"Ah, par exemple!" cried the young man. "You deserve that I should never
leave you."

Going into the parlor they found Mr. Wentworth performing introductions.
A young man was standing before the Baroness, blushing a good deal,
laughing a little, and shifting his weight from one foot to the other--a
slim, mild-faced young man, with neatly-arranged features, like those
of Mr. Wentworth. Two other gentlemen, behind him, had risen from their
seats, and a little apart, near one of the windows, stood a remarkably
pretty young girl. The young girl was knitting a stocking; but, while