"Oh, mamma, you are the sweetest, dearest mother in the world. It is ungrateful of me; but, mamma, I cannot help it."
"I know, I know, my darling. What does his father say?"
"He dues not know--no one knows. Are you not surprised, mamma?"
"I think I have seen it for some time past, my sweet."
"And you never mentioned it, mamma--never even whispered it?"
"It was for you to speak first, Constance, and I waited."
"I can scarcely believe it. Oh, mamma, mamma, I love him, I love him!"
"Dear child! When does he intend to speak to his father?"
"After he has seen you. He did intend to speak to both of you first before he said a word to me, but somehow, mamma--I don't know really how it happened, nor does he--Mamma, you are crying!"
"I cannot help it, dear. You are my only one, my only one----"