"The style of good looks that pleases one person often does not please another," said Miss Robertson.
"But she is not good-looking—I tell you no one would speak of good looks in connection with her—she is simply and perfectly beautiful; and she is going to service. Imagine yon creature brushing your boots and bringing them to you! The bare idea is profanation. She only wants education to make her a thing to be worshiped; but she is quite uncultured: I shouldn't wonder if she can't even read or write decently, but she has no want of natural ability: everything she said proved that."
"I am afraid you have fallen in love," said Miss Robertson.
"I am afraid of it," he said.
"I think hardly," said his sister. "I think you have more sense, James, than to be taken with a pretty face belonging to a young lady who can neither read nor write."
"Millions of people can read and write," said he, "but how many have a face like hers?"
"I must find her out and have a look at her," said Miss Robertson.
"Wait, James," said Mary, "till you see Lady Louisa."
"Lady Louisa may be anything she likes," said he, "but it is impossible she can match this peasant-girl without a single grace of dress or culture. I never saw anything like her—never."
"I have heard of gentlemen picking up pretty girls and sending them to be educated with a view of marrying them," said Miss Robertson.