She laughed at this.
"Philip, I hope you love mother!"
"I do love her; she is a dear little woman."
"Do you know that when she was young she was the most beautiful creature that ever was seen?"
"How could she have had such a lovely daughter if she had not been lovely herself?"
"Nonsense, Philip; but she was. She has the remains of it now. Have you noticed her teeth? They are like pearls. And her hands? Much smaller than mine. She must have been a beautiful actress, too; she has had verses written about her in the papers. She acted in the Plymouth and Exeter theatres and was a wonderful favourite. She had dozens and dozens of offers, and what do you think one of her lovers was, Philip? Well, but you would never guess. He was a Jew, and I really think mother was fond of him a little, little bit, from the way she talks about him. He must have been a god man, but of course mother couldn't marry a Jew. Wasn't it a mercy she didn't, Philip, for then what would have become of me--and you? I want you to love her very, very much; more than you do me, Philip."
"I can't do that, my darling; but I do love her, and will, both for her own sake and yours, my dearest, dearest! And so we are man and wife, darling! can scarcely believe in my happiness. You'll not melt away out of my arms, will you, Margaret?"
"Not if you're very good to me, Philip," she replied, with a tender nestling motion. "Look at that beautiful cloud, dear."
"It's coming over us, and it is shaped like an angel. I want to hear you say you love me, Margaret."
"Philip!"