“I think it a dear place,” returned Bessie enthusiastically; “but then it is my home, so I am not unprejudiced. It is very unlike other places. The streets are so steep, and some of the houses are built in such high, out-of-the-way nooks, you look up and see steps winding up the hill, and there is a big house perched up among the trees, and then another. You wonder how people care to climb up so many steps; but then, there is the view. I went over one of the houses one day, and from every window there was a perfect panorama. You could see miles away. Think what the sunsets must be from those windows!”
“You live lower down the hill, then?” with an air of polite interest.
“Yes, in such a quiet, secluded corner; but we are near the quarry woods, and there are such lovely walks. And then the bay; it is not the real open sea you know, but it is so pretty; and we sit on the rocks sometimes to watch the sunset. Oh, I should not like to live anywhere else!”
“Not in London, for example?”
“Oh, no, not for worlds! It is very amusing to watch the people, but one seems to have no room to breathe freely.”
“We are pretty crowded, certainly,” returned Mr. Sinclair; “but some of us would not care to live anywhere else, and I confess I am one of those people. The country is all very well for a month or two, but to a Londoner it is a sort of stagnation. Men like myself prefer to be at the heart of things—to live close to the centre of activity. London is the nucleus of England; not only the seat of government, but the focus of intellect, of art, of culture, of all that makes life worth living; and please do not put me down as a cockney, Miss Lambert, if I confess that I love these crowded streets. I am a lawyer, you know, and human nature is my study.”
“I quite understand you,” returned Bessie, with the bright intelligence that was natural to her. She was beginning to think Edna a fortunate girl. “There must be more in her than I thought, or this clever man would not have chosen her,” she said to herself; for Bessie, in her girlish innocence, knew little of the law of opposites, or how an intellectual or scientific man will sometimes select for his life companion a woman of only ordinary intelligence, who will, nevertheless, adorn her husband’s home by her simple domestic virtues. A wife does not need to be a moral whetstone to sharpen her husband’s wits by the fireside, neither would it enhance his happiness to find her filling reams of foolscap paper with choice specimens of prose and poetry; intelligent sympathy with his work is all he demands, and a loving, restful companion, who will soothe his hours of depression, who is never too weary or self-absorbed to listen to the story of his successes or failures.
“I shall be down at The Grange in a week or two—that is, if my mother be better; and then I hope we shall renew our acquaintance,” were Mr. Sinclair’s parting words as he took leave of Bessie; and Bessie sincerely echoed this wish.
“He is the sort of a man father would like,” she thought, as the train moved slowly out of the station.
This was paying a great compliment to Mr. Sinclair, for Dr. Lambert was rather severe on the young men of the day. “I don’t know what has come to them,” he would remark irritably; “young men nowadays call their father ‘governor,’ and speak to him as though he were their equal in age. There is no respect shown to elders. A brainless young puppy will contradict a man twice his age, and there is not even the same courtesy shown to the weaker sex either. I have heard young men and young women—young ladies, I suppose I ought to say—who address each other in a ‘hail-fellow-well-met’ sort of manner, but what can you expect,” in a disgusted tone, “when the girls talk slang, and ape their young brothers? I think the ‘sweet madame’ of our great-grandmothers’ times preferable to these slipshod manners. I would rather see our girls live and die in single blessedness than marry one of those fellows.”