, you must come; you are so
original!'

'I don't mean that I don't feel your kindness,' the girl broke out,
blushing. 'But to be only protected--always protected: is that a life?'

'Most women are only too thankful and I am bound to say I think you are
_difficile_.' Lady Davenant used a good many French words, in the
old-fashioned manner and with a pronunciation not perfectly pure: when
she did so she reminded Laura Wing of Mrs. Gore's novels. 'But you shall
be better protected than even by me. _Nous verrons cela._ Only you must
stop crying--this isn't a crying country.'

'No, one must have courage here. It takes courage to marry for such a
reason.'

'Any reason is good enough that keeps a woman from being an old maid.
Besides, you will like him.'

'He must like me first,' said the girl, with a sad smile.

'There's the American again! It isn't necessary. You are too proud--you
expect too much.'

'I'm proud for what I am--that's very certain. But I don't expect
anything,' Laura Wing declared. 'That's the only form my pride takes.
Please give my love to Mrs. Berrington. I am so sorry--so sorry,' she
went on, to change the talk from the subject of her marrying. She wanted
to marry but she wanted also not to want it and, above all, not to
appear to. She lingered in the room, moving about a little; the place
was always so pleasant to her that to go away--to return to her own
barren home--had the effect of forfeiting a sort of privilege of
sanctuary. The afternoon had faded but the lamps had been brought in,
the smell of flowers was in the air and the old house of Plash seemed to
recognise the hour that suited it best. The quiet old lady in the
firelight, encompassed with the symbolic security of chintz and
water-colour, gave her a sudden vision of how blessed it would be to
jump all the middle dangers of life and have arrived at the end, safely,
sensibly, with a cap and gloves and consideration and memories. 'And,
Lady Davenant, what does _she_ think?' she asked abruptly, stopping
short and referring to Mrs. Berrington.

'Think? Bless your soul, she doesn't do that! If she did, the things she
says would be unpardonable.'

'The things she says?'

'That's what makes them so beautiful--that they are not spoiled by
preparation. You could never think of them _for_ her.' The girl smiled
at this description of the dearest friend of her interlocutress, but she
wondered a little what Lady Davenant would say to visitors a