'I am glad you tell me the truth,' said Silvia. 'It is the best preparation for friendship. But tell me, what do you disapprove of in me?'
Her face was so gentle and winning as she spoke that he was on the point of saying: 'Nothing in the whole world; only be just yourself;' but Mrs De Lacy came in at that moment, and the words were not spoken.
Wilfred left the house feeling more depressed than there was any reason for. 'What have I made up my mind to do?' he thought. 'I can no longer conceal from myself that I love this woman, who is almost the opposite of all I ever thought to love; and yet I feel a sort of dread in letting this lead me on. Shall we be happy together if she loves me? That is the question I cannot answer. I will wait to see her at home; and then, I suppose I must let "the great river bear me to the main," and take my chance of happiness with the rest.'
Mrs Stirling and three daughters—of whom our friend Silvia was the eldest—lived in a pleasant terrace about a mile from the De Lacys. They were well to do, though not rich, and lived a happy busy life; each having interests both separate and in common. They had many friends, and it was a pleasant sociable house to visit at. Mrs Stirling was still young in mind, and entered into all her daughters' pursuits and interests with active sympathy. One afternoon they were all together in the drawing-room—except the youngest daughter Marian, who had a studio near where she painted every day—when a double-knock was heard; by no means an uncommon sound, and yet somehow, lately, every knock seemed to startle Silvia and bring rather a vivid colour to her face. The servant brought in a card inscribed 'Mr Earle;' and that gentleman followed, with an outward appearance of great coolness, but some inward trepidation.
'Mother,' said Silvia quietly, rising and giving him a cordial hand, 'this is my friend, Mr Earle, of whom I spoke.'
'We are very glad to make your acquaintance, Mr Earle,' said Mrs Stirling, in the same cordial natural way, making room by the fire. 'Silvia told us what a successful portrait you made of her.'
Earle's glance round the room pleased his fastidious taste thoroughly. It was emphatically a lady's room, filled with pretty feminine things; and without being in the least untidy, was evidently a room to be lived in and to have 'good times,' as Silvia's compatriots say. Mrs Stirling too, whose tall elegant figure and frank manner were repeated in her daughter's, was a woman of marked refinement and culture. He found out this much in five minutes.
They had plenty to say to each other; the Stirlings seemed to read everything, and to have thought about most things; but there was nothing in the slightest degree pedantic or 'blue-stocking' in their talk. So the chat went on merrily—for Wilfred too was a man who could think—but without much help from Silvia, who was unusually silent. Tea was brought in presently; and as she took her place at the tray, Earle found his eyes constantly straying that way and watching her pretty graceful movements. The mother's keen eyes soon discovered the secret, and she turned her head to conceal an amused smile.
'I was nearly forgetting one of the objects of my call,' said the artist, after paying an unconscionably long visit. 'I brought a copy of Miss Stirling's portrait to offer for your acceptance. Shall I fetch it? I left it in the hall.'