"Don't be a goose," says Miss Chesney, with immeasurable scorn. "Don't you think I have wit enough to see you are head over ears in love with that charming, beautiful creature down there in The Cottage? I don't wonder at that: I only wonder why you did not tell me of it when we were such good friends."
"Are you quite sure I had anything to tell you?"
"Quite; I have eyes and I have ears. Did I not see how you looked at her, and how she blushed all up to the roots of her soft hair when you did so? and when you were placing me in the carriage she said, 'Oh, Cyril!' and what was the meaning of that, Master Chetwoode, eh? She is the prettiest woman I ever saw," says Lilian, enthusiastically. "To see her is indeed to love her. I hope you love her properly, with all your heart?"
"I do," says Cyril, simply. "I sometimes think, Lilian, it cannot be for one's happiness to love as I do."
"Oh, this is delightful!" cries Lilian, clapping her hands. "I am glad you are in earnest about it; and I am glad you are both so good-looking. I don't think ugly people ought to fall in love: they quite destroy the romance of the whole thing."
"Thanks awfully," says Cyril. "I shall begin to hold up my head now you have said a word in my favor. But,"—growing serious—"you really like her, Lilian? How can you be sure you do after so short an acquaintance?"
"I always like a person at once or not at all. I cannot explain why; it is a sort of instinct. Florence I detested at first sight; your Mrs. Arlington I love. What is her name?"
"Cecilia."
"A pretty name, and suited to her: with her tender beautiful face she looks a saint. You are very fortunate, Cyril: something tells me you cannot fail to be happy, having gained the love of such a woman."
"Dear little sibyl," says Cyril, lifting one of her hands to his lips, "I thank you for your prophecy. It does me good only to hear you say so."