‘But she’s not a bit like that,’ said dear little Janie, almost ready to cry at my description of her cousin. ‘Lionne is very graceful and exceedingly handsome; every one says so. Indeed, Robert dear, you are quite mistaken.’
‘She won’t be handsome to me,’ I answered, appeasing her with a kiss, ‘since she must be so different from yourself, Janie. Nothing will go down with me, darling, except it be golden hair and a marble skin; and then they must be the hair and the skin of but one woman in the world.’ And I looked into the face of my cushat-dove until I made her blush and laugh nervously with her tremulous happiness. Dear little Janie! God keep me ever true to her!—‘Why do you call your cousin “Lionne,” instead of by her proper name?’ I asked, as soon as the billing and cooing episode had somewhat subsided, and we had leisure to revert to the subject under discussion. ‘Margaret is pretty enough, and the other has no connection with it, let alone its signification rendering it very unsuitable for a lady.’
At this question my wife reddened; but, after a little pressing, confessed it was a nickname which had been bestowed on Miss Anstruther at school.
‘She is a dear, generous creature, Robert dear,’ she pleaded; ‘but just a little hasty, or at least she used to be; but of course she will have got over all that by this time’ (not so sure, thought I); ‘and we girls used to call her ‘La Lionne’ just for fun, you know, and somehow the name stuck to her. Oh, you should have seen her in a rage!’ continued Janie, warming beneath the recollection; ‘her eyes used to flash such glorious fire, and she didn’t seem to care what she did. Once, when I offended her, she flew at me just like a little cat, and bit me on the arm.’ And Janie laughed softly at the remembrance which made my blood boil.
‘What a she-devil!’ I exclaimed indignantly, as I thought of the fair flesh, of which I was so tender, lacerated by the teeth of a gaunt school-girl with vicious black eyes. ‘I should like to have caught her at it!’
Then Janie seemed to think she had said too much, and tried to retract.
‘Oh, but, Robert dear!’ she exclaimed, ‘she is very different now, you know; that all happened long ago; and though we still call her Lionne, it is seldom that she ever gives way to her temper. I have not seen her for some years; but when we last met we had not a word together during the whole period of her stay.’
‘And how long may that have been, Janie?’
‘For three weeks; and she was so pleasant and kind, you can’t think.’