'If you really love him,' said the mother, again caressing her eldest daughter as she acknowledged her love, but hardly with such tenderness as when that daughter had repudiated that other love—'if you really love him, dearest, of course I do not, of course I cannot, object.'
'I do, mamma; I do.'
'Well, then, Gertrude, so be it. I have not a word to say against your choice. Had I not believed him to be an excellent young man, I should not have allowed him to be here with you so much as he has been. We cannot all see with the same eyes, dearest, can we?'
'No, mamma; but pray don't think I dislike poor Harry; and, oh! mamma, pray don't set him against Alaric because of this——'
'Set him against Alaric! No, Gertrude. I certainly shall not do that. But whether I can reconcile Harry to it, that is another thing.'
'At any rate he has no right to be angry at it,' said Gertrude, assuming her air of dignity.
'Certainly not with you, Gertrude.'
'No, nor with Alaric,' said she, almost with indignation.
'That depends on what has passed between them. It is very hard to say how men so situated regard each other.'