"Mrs. Bagot, you don't know her? She may have been all that. But strange as it may seem to you—and seems to me, for that matter—she's a—she's—upon my word of honor, I really think she's about the best woman I ever met—the most unselfish—the most—"
"Ah! She's a beautiful woman—I can well see that!"
"She has a beautiful nature, Mrs. Bagot—you may believe me or not, as you like—and it is to that I shall make my appeal, as your son's friend, who has his interests at heart. And let me tell you that deeply as I grieve for you in your present distress, my grief and concern for her are far greater!"
"What! grief for her if she marries my son!"
"No, indeed—but if she refuses to marry him. She may not do so, of course—but my instinct tells me she will!"
"Oh! Mr. Wynne, is that likely?"
"I will do my best to make it so—with such an utter trust in her unselfish goodness of heart and her passionate affection for your son as—"
"How do you know she has all this passionate affection for him?"
"Oh, McAllister and I have long guessed it—though we never thought this particular thing would come of it. I think, perhaps, that first of all you ought to see her yourself—you would get quite a new idea of what she really is—you would be surprised, I assure you."
Mrs. Bagot shrugged her shoulders impatiently, and there was silence for a minute or two.