"No, my darling; don't deceive yourself. Lady Lucas might give up Sir Cyril for marrying you. She would not accept us because you married Sir Cyril."
"Wouldn't she? I thought—perhaps—"
"Don't think of us at all. Or, if you do, think what it would be to us to lose our one sunbeam. That should not stand in your way, if it were a question of your real happiness. But—"
"Oh!" in a startled tone. "You could not get on without me, of course. I never thought of that. There would be nobody to walk with my father. You can't go any distance—and fancy him wandering about alone . . . But then I should be so near! I could run in every day, and look after him almost the same as now."
"If you were Sir Cyril's wife, your duty would be to him, not to us. He is a man of leisure, and his wife will have her time well filled. Dear Emmie, you must put the thought of us quite aside, and think only of yourself and him. Only you and him! Could you promise to love him all your life—first and best? To love him?"
"Not so much as I love you, of course, mother! How could I possibly?"—with a look of infantine sweetness. "And I should be miserable if I couldn't see you every day, and tell you every single thing as I do now. But I don't like to make him unhappy."
"You must do what is right, and leave his unhappiness to take care of itself. I am not sure that it will be very deep. There may be a touch of self-deception in this sudden fancy . . . Did it never occur to you that he thinks a great deal of Jean Trevelyan?"
Emmie laughed. "Yes, indeed he does. He is always talking of her. It is the funniest thing—but whatever we happen to be speaking about, he always twists the subject round, so as to bring in her name. I really do think it is that, that has kept me from seeing how much he cared for me . . . It's funny, mother . . . And, of course, a man can't care for two girls at once—in that way, I mean . . . And, of course, if he did care for her, he wouldn't ask me to marry him."
"If he knew that he cared for her most. People do not always fully know their own minds. It has been a life-long affection, and perhaps he does not measure the strength of it. His perpetual reference to her ideas and opinions has a suspicious look. No doubt he has been captivated for the moment by this dear little face—" kissing it. "But suppose there were a mistake—and suppose he found out by-and-by—"
"Yes: I see! And you think I had better say 'No' at once?"