‘What has Phil to do with it? Doesn’t he approve?’
‘Oh, it isn’t that! Phil does not interfere. I know he doesn’t like the Belassis’; but he is a dear boy, and would not stand in my way, if he thought my happiness depended upon it. But it is since I’ve known Phil that I’ve felt as I do.’
‘Felt what?’
‘Why, what men can be and sometimes are. You see,’ she continued naively, ‘I used to have a very poor opinion of them. You know, Uncle Belassis and Lewis, and old Mr. Meredith, and a cross old great-uncle of ours, were the chief specimens I had seen; and really amongst them, and the few local youths I used to meet at the mild entertainments of the neighbourhood, Lewis ranked quite as a bright and shining light. I used to wonder how it was real live men were so different from men in books, but I did not believe till he came that they were really bold and manly, and—well, like Phil is, you know.’
Miss Marjory smiled.
‘So Phil came upon you quite as a revelation?’
‘Yes, just that,’ answered Maud, with her bright enthusiasm, which found favour in the eyes of her listener. ‘After I had seen Phil, and felt what it was to have a brother of one’s very own like him, why, then I couldn’t fancy Lewis any more—I really couldn’t. And I should hate and detest to be made into a Belassis!’
‘My dear,’ said Miss Marjory warmly, ‘I think you have judged very wisely. And after your final decision has been formally registered, your brother and I must see if we cannot find you a husband, the very counterpart of himself.’
Maud laughed, and shook her head.
‘You are very clever, Miss Marjory, and Phil is very good; but I’m afraid, with all your cleverness and goodness, you’ll never manage that.’