“Why, isn’t your fiancée a lady?”
“A lady, baroness! why, she is an angel!” indignantly exclaimed Reginald.
“Oh! of course, we always are until we are wives; but who is she?” said the baroness, beginning to suspect there was a great deal more to be confessed yet.
“Well, you see, that is the very thing, I don’t know who she is; she does not know herself; in fact, nobody knows.”
“Nobody knows who she is! My dear Rex, this is very odd; pray explain yourself. Who is she?”
“She is the dearest, prettiest, sweetest, most elegant little creature you ever saw in your life. Her hair——” began Rex.
“Oh, but you have told me all about her hair and her wonderful eyes and her exquisite complexion before; I want to know her name, and where she lives, and what her father is, and all about her.”
“She has not a father; in fact, she has no relations. She was found by her foster father when she was a baby, and the people all believe the fairies brought her, and they call her the fairies’ child.”
“But, my dear Rex, there are no such things as fairies; surely you can’t believe what those ignorant English peasants say. Who is her foster father then?”
“Well, that is the unfortunate part; he is only a shepherd, and yet Fairy, that is her only name, is as perfect a lady as my mother or Lady Oafham.”