“Quite well. I left her walking with Lina in the Square gardens.”
“As simple and untouched as ever?”
“As much as ever a light-hearted baby.”
“Ah! well, so much the better. And let me say, once for all, that you need not fear any closer intercourse with us. My poor Duke has made up his mind that such things are not for him, and wishes all to be arranged for Cecil as his heir. Not that he is any worse. With care he may survive us all, the doctors say; but he has made up his mind, and will never ask Babie again. He says it would be cruel; but he does long for a sight of her bright face!”
“Well, we shall be brought into meeting in a simple natural way.”
“And Babie? How does she look? I am ashamed of it; but I can’t help thinking more about seeing her than this new cousin. I can fancy her—handsome, composed, and serene.”
“That may be so ten or twenty years hence! but now she is the tenderest little clinging thing you ever saw.”
“And my ideal would have been that Cecil should have chosen some one superior; but after all, I believe he is really more likely to be raised by being looked up to. He has been our boy too long.”
“Quite true; I have watched him content with the level my impertinent children assign him here, but now trying to be manly for Essie’s sake. You have not told me of Sydney.”
“So angry at the folly of passing over Babie, that I was forced to give her a hint to be silent before Duke. She collapsed, much impressed. Forgive me, if it was a betrayal; but she is two years older now, and would not have been a safe companion unless warned. Hark! Is that the door-bell?”