“Mamma!” said Ruperta, reproachfully. That was to stop her mouth. “If you tell all the wild things I say to you, her ladyship will think me very presumptuous.”
“No, no,” said Lady Bassett, “enthusiasm is not presumption. Enthusiasm is beautiful, and the brightest flower of youth.”
“I am glad you think so, Lady Bassett; for people who have no enthusiasm seem very hard and mean to me.”
“And so they are,” said Lady Bassett warmly.
But I have no time to record the full details of the conversation. I can only present the general result. Lady Bassett thought Ruperta a beautiful and noble girl, that any house might be proud to adopt; and Ruperta was charmed by Lady Bassett's exquisite manners, and touched and interested by her pale yet still beautiful face and eyes. They made friends; but it was not till the third visit, when many kind things had passed between them, that Lady Bassett ventured on the subject she had at heart. “My dear,” said she to Ruperta, “when I first saw you, I wondered at my son Compton's audacity in loving a young lady so much more advanced than himself; but now I must be frank with you; I think the poor boy's audacity was only a proper courage. He has all my sympathy, and, if he is not quite indifferent to you, let me just put in my word, and say there is not a young lady in the world I could bear for my daughter-in-law, now I have seen and talked with you, my dear.”
“Thank you, Lady Bassett,” said Mrs. Bassett; “and, since you have said so much, let me speak my mind. So long as your son is attached to my daughter, I could never welcome any other son-in-law. I HAVE GOT THE TIPPET.”
Lady Bassett looked at Ruperta, for an explanation. Ruperta only blushed, and looked uncomfortable. She hated all allusion to the feats of her childhood.
Mrs. Bassett saw Lady Bassett's look of perplexity, and said, eagerly, “You never missed it? All the better. I thought I would keep it, for a peacemaker partly.”
“My dear friend,” said Lady Bassett, “you are speaking riddles to me; what tippet?”
“The tippet your son took off his own shoulders, and put it round my girl, that terrible night they were lost in the wood. Forgive me keeping it, Lady Bassett—I know I was little better than a thief; but it was only a tippet to you, and to me it was much more. Ah! Lady Bassett, I have loved your darling boy ever since; you can't wonder, you are a mother;” and, turning suddenly on Ruperta, “why do you keep saying he is only a boy? If he was man enough to do that at seven years of age, he must have a manly heart. No; I couldn't bear the sight of any other son-in-law; and when you are a mother you'll understand many things, and, for one, you'll—under—stand—why I'm so—fool—ish; seeing the sweet boy's mother ready—to cry—too—oh! oh! oh!”