ave been tempted in the worship of
the outward loveliness to disregard or forget the essentials,--the
things which are unseen but eternal,--then, all unconscious of
exercising any such influence, old Margery's clear eyes look into mine,
old Margery's mittened hand seems to rest upon my coat sleeve, and the
voice which has guided me from infancy, says, in gentle astonishment:
`Is this your choice, Master Garthie, to fill my dear lady's place?' No
doubt, Miss Champion, it will seem almost absurd to you when you think
of our set and our sentiments, and the way we racket round that I
should sit here on the duchess's lawn and confess that I have been held
back from proposing marriage to the women I have most admired, because
of what would have been my old nurse's opinion of them! But you must
remember her opinion is formed by a memory, and that memory is the
memory of my dead mother. Moreover, Margery voices my best self, and
expresses my own judgment when it is not blinded by passion or warped
by my worship of the beautiful. Not that Margery would disapprove of
loveliness; in fact, she would approve of nothing else for me, I know
very well. But her penetration rapidly goes beneath the surface.
According to one of Paul's sublime paradoxes, she looks at the things
that are not seen. It seems queer that I can tell you all this, Miss
Champion, and really it is the first time I have actually formulated it
in my own mind. But I think it so extremely friendly of you to have
troubled to give me good advice in the matter."

Garth Dalmain ceased speaking, and the silence which followed suddenly
assumed alarming proportions, seeming to Jane like a high fence which
she was vainly trying to scale. She found herself mentally rushing
hither and thither, seeking a gate or any possible means of egress. And
still she was confronted by the difficulty of replying adequately to
the totally unexpected. And what added to her dumbness was the fact
that she was infinitely touched by Garth's confession; and when Jane
was deeply moved speech always became difficult. That this young
man--adored by all the girls for his good looks and delightful manners;
pursued for his extreme eligibility by mothers and chaperons; famous
already in the world of art; flattered, courted, sought after in
society--should calmly admit that the only woman really left IN his
life was his old nurse, and that her opinion and expectations held him
back from a worldly, or unwise