d Phil, philosophically,
"for some of us have been going a pace----"

"Mr. Compton," said Mrs. Dennistoun, solemnly, "I don't understand very
well what you mean by these phrases. They may be much more innocent
than they seem to a country lady's ears. But I implore you to keep my
Elinor clear of anything that you call going the pace. It must mean
something very unlike her, whatever it means. She has been used to a
very quiet, orderly life. Don't hurry her off into a whirl of society,
or among noisy gay people. Indeed I can assure you that the more you
have her to herself the more you will be happy in her. She is the
brightest companion, the most entertaining---- Oh, Mr. Compton!"

"I think it's about time, now, mater, to call me Phil."

She smiled, with the tears in her eyes, and held out her hand. "Philip,
then," she said, "to make a little difference. Now remember what I say.
It is only in the sacredness of her home that you will know what is in
Elinor. One is never dull with her. She has her own opinions--her bright
way of looking at things--as you know. It is, perhaps, a strange thing
for a mother to say, but she will amuse you, Philip; she is such
company. You will never be dull with Elinor: she has so much in her,
which will come out in society, it is true, but never so brightly as
between you two alone."

This did not seem to have quite the effect upon the almost-bridegroom
which the mother intended. "Perhaps" (she said to herself), "he was a
little affected by the thought" (which she kept so completely out of the
conversation) "of the loss she herself was about to undergo." At all
events, his face was not so bright as in the vision of that sweet
prospect held before him it ought to have been.

"The fact is," he said, "she knows a great deal more than I do, or ever
will. It's she that will be the one to look blue when she finds herself
alone with a fool of a follow that doesn't know a book from a brick.
That's the thing I'm most afraid---- As for society, she can have her
pick of that," he added, brightening up, "I'll not bind her down."

"You may be sure she'll prefer you to all the world."

He shrugged his shoulders a little.

"They say it's always a leap in the dark," he said, "for how's she to
know the sort of fellow I am with what she sees of me here? But I
promise you I'll do my best to take her in, and keep her in that
delusion, for her good--making believe to be all that's virtuous: and
perhaps no