"Faith, my dear child," said Miss Sophy,—"you needn't be so ceremonious—none of us are wearing gloves."
Faith laughed and blushed and pulled off one glove.
"You are enacting Portia, are you?" said Dr. Harrison. "Even she would not have handled wigs with them. I see I have done mischief! But the harm I did you last night I will undo this evening. Ladies and Gentlemen!—I will give you, presently, the pleasure of hearing some lines written expressive of my wishes toward the unknown—but supposed—mistress of my life and affections. Any suggestions toward the bettering of them—I will hear."
"The bettering of what?" said Mrs. Somers,—"your life and affections?"
"I am aware, my dear aunt Ellen, you think the one impossible—the other improbable. I speak of bettering the wishes."
"'Unknown but supposed'"—said Mr. Linden. "'Item—She hath many nameless virtues'."
"That is not my wish," said the doctor gravely looking at him, "I think nameless virtues—deserve their obscurity!"
"What do you call your ideal?"
"Psyche,—" said the doctor, after a minute's sober consideration apparently divided between Mr. Linden's face and the subject.
"That is not so uncommon a name as Campaspe," said Mr. Linden, with a queer little gesture of brow and lips.