his silence was
kindly meant: she did not think it right to take for granted what
might never come to pass. Uppermost in her mind was the cruelty of
accepting Pansy as her daughter-in-law this morning with the
possibility of rejecting her afterward.

As Pansy walked reluctantly out into the hall, she stopped with a
deep wish in her candid eyes.

"Oh, Mrs. Meredith, I should so much like to see the portrait of
Dent's father: he has often spoken to me about It."

Mrs. Meredith led her away in silence to where the portrait hung,
and the two stood looking at it side by side. She resisted a
slight impulse to put her arm around the child. When they returned
to the front of the house, Pansy turned:

"Do you think you will ever love me?"

The carriage was at the door. "You must not walk," said Mrs.
Meredith, "the sun is too hot now."

As Pansy stepped into the carriage, she cast a suspicious glance at
the cushions: Meredith upholstery was not to be trusted, and she
seated herself warily.

Mrs. Meredith put her hand through the window: "You must come to
see me soon again, Pansy. I am a poor visitor, but I shall try to
call on you in a few days."

She went back to her seat on the veranda.

It has been said that her insight into goodness was her strength;
she usually had a way of knowing at once, as regards the character
of people, what she was ever to know at all. Her impressions of
Pansy unrolled themselves disconnectedly:

"She makes mistakes, but she does not know how to do wrong. Guile
is not in her. She is so innocent that she does not realize
sometimes the peril of her own words. She is proud--a great deal
prouder than Dent. To her, life means work and duty; more than
that, it means love. She is ambitious, and ambition, in her case,
would be indispensable. She did not claim Dent: I appreciate that.
She is a perfectly brave girl, and it is cowardice that makes so
many women hypocrites. She will improve--she improved while she
was here. But oh, everything else! No figure, no beauty, no
grace, no tact, no voice, no hands, no anything that is so much
needed! Dent says there are cold bodies which he calls planets
without atmosphere: he has found one to revolve about him. If she
only had some clouds! A mist here and there, so that everything
would not be so plain, so exposed, so terribly open! But neither
has _he_ any clouds, any mists, any atmosphere. And if she only
would not so try to expose