"He has been very kind. He hasn't said much. I know he wants me to feel quite free. But, of course, I can't help knowing that he would like it very much, and I should like to please him."
"He would like it very much, would he?" repeated Miss Melody reflectively. "Well, childie, that seems to me a very big item on the side of the Pros. Not as a sole reason for marrying, you understand, or even as a chief one—but simply because your father's judgment of this man is likely to be a very, very sound one. If he likes him so much, and trusts him well enough to want to give you to him, why, then, Lily, I think we may safely take it for granted that he must be a very admirable person. A man is a better judge of another man than we women can ever be, you know."
If Lily, in some undefined way, felt that Miss Melody had failed to touch upon the real point at issue, which in no way concerned the intrinsic worth of Nicholas Aubray—she had too much faith in the voice of external authority, and too little in her own convictions, to pause upon the thought.
"Then there's another thing, you know, dearie. You say he is a good deal older than you are. Well, childie, that seems to me in your case to be a real advantage. You lack backbone, Lily—you know I've always told you so. I should be frightened to think of you at the head of a household without a very, very steady hand behind you, childie. Don't you feel that yourself?"
"Yes, I think I do."
Miss Melody shot out a plump forefinger almost triumphantly.
"There you are, again! I think I do. You must know, childie dear, not think! Oh, Lily, Lily!"
Miss Melody shook her head and dropped her deep voice. There was humour in her kindly, penetrating eyes.
"It seems to me that a clever, strong-minded man, older than yourself, is the very husband you need, Lily. Tell me—you trust this man?"
"Oh, yes."