"He is the only man whom I ever loved," said Lady Laura.
"But it was too late when you learned to love him," said Violet.
"It was too late, when I was so sure of it as to wish that I had never seen Mr. Kennedy. I felt it coming on me, and I argued with myself that such a marriage would be bad for us both. At that moment there was trouble in the family, and I had not a shilling of my own."
"You had paid it for Oswald."
"At any rate, I had nothing;—and he had nothing. How could I have dared to think even of such a marriage?"
"Did he think of it, Laura?"
"I suppose he did."
"You know he did. Did you not tell me before?"
"Well;—yes. He thought of it. I had come to some foolish, half-sentimental resolution as to friendship, believing that he and I could be knit together by some adhesion of fraternal affection that should be void of offence to my husband; and in furtherance of this he was asked to Loughlinter when I went there, just after I had accepted Robert. He came down, and I measured him too, as you have done. I measured him, and I found that he wanted nothing to come up to the height required by my standard. I think I knew him better than you did."
"Very possibly;—but why measure him at all, when such measurement was useless?"