t on without any
hesitation. I find her quite comfortable. Powys reads Italian with her
in the morning. His sister (who might be a woman if she liked, but
has an insane preference for celestial neutrality) does the moral
inculcation. The effect is comical. I should like you to see Cold Steel
leading Tame Fire about, and imagining the taming to be her work! You
deserve well of your generation. You just did enough to set this darling
girl alight. Knights and squires numberless will thank you. The idea of
your reproaching yourself is monstrous. Why, there's no one thanks you
more than she does. You stole her voice, which some may think a pity,
but I don't, seeing that I would rather have her in a salon than before
the footlights. Imagine my glory in her!--she has become half cat! She
moves softly, as if she loved everything she touched; making you throb
to feel the little ball of her foot. Her eyes look steadily, like green
jewels before the veil of an Egyptian temple. Positively, her eyes have
grown green--or greenish! They were darkish hazel formerly, and talked
more of milkmaids and chattering pastorals than a discerning master
would have wished. Take credit for the change; and at least I don't
blame you for the tender hollows under the eyes, sloping outward, just
hinted... Love's mark on her, so that men's hearts may faint to know
that love is known to her, and burn to read her history. When she is
about to speak, the upper lids droop a very little; or else the under
lids quiver upward--I know not which. Take further credit for her
manner. She has now a manner of her own. Some of her naturalness has
gone, but she has skipped clean over the 'young lady' stage; from raw
girl she has really got as much of the great manner as a woman can have
who is not an ostensibly retired dowager, or a matron on a pedestal
shuffling the naked virtues and the decorous vices together. She looks
at you with an immense, marvellous gravity, before she replies to
you--enveloping you in a velvet light. This, is fact, not fine stuff,
my dear fellow. The light of her eyes does absolutely cling about you.
Adieu! You are a great master, and know exactly when to make your bow
and retire. A little more, and you would have spoilt her. Now she is
perfect."

[Wilfrid to Tracy Runningbrook:]

"I have just come across a review of your last book, and send it,
thinking you may wish to see it. I have put a query to one of the
passages, which I think misqu