“I’m glad you love me; I’m very, very glad. Tell me about the Rupert Lovel who went away two hundred years ago. He wasn’t really like me?”
“In spirit he was, I don’t doubt.”
“Yes; but he wasn’t like me in appearance. I’m small and thin and pale, and he—Aunt Griselda, wouldn’t your heart beat and wouldn’t you be glad if an heir just like the old Rupert Lovel came home? If he had just the same figure, and just the same grand flashing eyes, and just the same splendid strength, wouldn’t you be glad? Wouldn’t it be a joyful surprise to you?”
“No, Phil, for my heart is set on a certain little pale-faced boy. Now don’t let us talk about nonsensical things. Come, you must have your supper and go to bed; you will have plenty of excitement to-morrow and must rest well.”
“One moment, please. Aunt Grizel, tell me—tell me, did you ever see the lady of the forest?”
“Phil, my dear child, what do you mean?”
“The beautiful lady who wears a green dress, greener than the leaves, and has a lovely face, and brings a gift in her hand. Did you ever see her?”
“Philip, I can’t stay any longer in this dark hall. Of course I never saw her. There is a legend about her—a foolish, silly legend; but you don’t suppose I am so foolish as to believe it?”
“I don’t know; perhaps it isn’t foolish. I wanted to see her, and I did at last.”
“You saw her!”