"Yes!—well, that was certainly a romantic beginning. Go on."
"Then he came and called. Papa liked him. Yes, and so did I. He was so different to other people; he had a distinct personality of his own. He had read and travelled, and kept his eyes open. He put old things in a new light; in short, he was charming to talk to, and I was always glad whenever he came and spoke to me,—though it was not very often. At one time, he ventured over to the station tennis parties, and was quite callous to Mrs. Creery's snubs and Lizzie Caggett's scowls. Then for weeks he would disappear."
"And all this while had he ever said anything?" inquired Dido with the authority of a girl, who had had an authenticated proposal.
"He never paid me a single compliment in his life; but I believed he liked me."
"And you liked him?"
Helen made no direct answer, but continued her tale, and her cousin accepted her silence for the proverbial consent.
"At length we had a grand ball, my first and only dance. To every one's amazement, Mr. Lisle appeared in irreproachable evening dress, and danced nearly the whole evening."
"With you, of course?"
"No; with a married lady, a Mrs. Durand."
"Well, I must say, that I think that was rather peculiar."