"Why that sigh, my dear mother?"
"I was thinking how exactly she would have suited you,—how proud I should have been of such a daughter-in-law, and how happy you would have been with such a wife."
Harley started. "Tut," said he, peevishly, "she is a mere child; you forget my years."
"Why," said Lady Lansmere, surprised, "Helen is quite as young as
Violante."
"In dates-yes. But Helen's character is so staid; what it is now it will be ever; and Helen, from gratitude, respect, or pity, condescends to accept the ruins of my heart, while this bright Italian has the soul of a Juliet, and would expect in a husband all the passion of a Romeo. Nay, Mother, hush. Do you forget that I am engaged,—and of my own free will and choice? Poor dear Helen! /A propos/, have you spoken to my father, as you undertook to do?"
"Not yet. I must seize the right moment. You know that my Lord requires management."
"My dear mother, that female notion of managing us men costs you ladies a great waste of time, and occasions us a great deal of sorrow. Men are easily managed by plain truth. We are brought up to respect it, strange as it may seem to you!"
Lady Lansmere smiled with the air of superior wisdom, and the experience of an accomplished wife. "Leave it to me, Harley, and rely on my Lord's consent."
Harley knew that Lady Lansmere always succeeded in obtaining her way with his father; and he felt that the earl might naturally be disappointed in such an alliance, and, without due propitiation, evince that disappointment in his manner to Helen. Harley was bound to save her from all chance of such humiliation. He did not wish her to think that she was not welcomed into his family; therefore he said, "I resign myself to your promise and your diplomacy. Meanwhile, as you love me, be kind to my betrothed."
"Am I not so?"