r saw me in earnest in anything before in my
life."

"No, indeed," said Mrs. Barclay. "I always knew it was in you. What you
wanted was only an object."

"What do you say to my plan?"

"I am afraid they would not come. There is the care of the old
grandmother; they would not leave everything to their sister alone."

"Tempt them with pictures and music, and the opera."

"The opera! Philip, she would not go to a theatre, or anything
theatrical, for any consideration. They are very strict on that point,
and Sunday-keeping, and dancing. Do not speak to her of the opera."

"They are not so far wrong. I never saw a decent opera yet in my life."

"Philip!" exclaimed Mrs. Barclay in the greatest surprise. "I never
heard you say anything like that before."

"I suppose it makes a difference," he said thoughtfully, "with what
eyes a man looks at a thing. And dancing--I don't think I care to see
her dance."

"Philip! You are extravagant."

"I believe I should be fit to commit murder if I saw her waltzing with
anybody."

"Jealous already?" said Mrs. Barclay slyly.

"If you like.--Do you see her as I see her?" he asked abruptly.

There was a tone in the last words which gave Mrs. Barclay's heart a
kind of constriction. She answered with gentle sympathy, "I think I do."

"I have seen handsomer women," he went on;--"Madge is handsomer, in a
way; you may see many women more beautiful, according to the rules; but
I never saw any one so lovely!"

"I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Barclay.

"I never saw anything so lovely!" he repeated. "She is most like--"

"A white lily," said Mrs. Barclay.

"No, that is not her type. No. As long as the world stands, a rose just
open will remain the fairest similitude for a perfect woman. It's
commonness cannot hinder that. She is not an unearthly Dendrobium, she
is an earthly rose--

'Not too good
For human nature's daily food,'

--if one could find the right sort of human nature! Just so fresh,
unconscious, and fair; with just such a dignity of purity about her. I
cannot fancy her at the opera, or dancing."

"A sort of unapproachable tea-rose?" said Mrs. Barclay, smiling at him,
though her eyes were wistful.

"No," said he, "a tea-rose is too fragile. There is nothing of that
about her, thank heaven!"

"No," said Mrs. Barclay, "there is nothing but sound healthy life about
her; mental and bodily; and I agree with you, sweet as ever a human
life can be. In