“Of course I do!” Out it came in those words, before I could stop it. Was there something unbecoming to a young lady in saying what I had just said? Mrs. Staveley seemed to be more amused than angry with me. She took my arm kindly, and led me along with her. “My dear, you are as clear as crystal, and as true as steel. You are a favorite of mine already.”
What a delightful woman! as I said just now. I asked if she really liked me as well as she liked my sister.
She said: “Better.”
I didn’t expect that, and didn’t want it. Helena is my superior. She is prettier than I am, cleverer than I am, better worth liking than I am. Mrs. Staveley shifted the talk back to Philip. I ought to have said Mr. Philip. No, I won’t; I shall call him Philip. If I had a heart of stone, I should feel interested in him, after what Mrs. Staveley has told me.
Such a sad story, in some respects. Mother dead; no brothers or sisters. Only the father left; he lives a dismal life on a lonely stormy coast. Not a severe old gentleman, for all that. His reasons for taking to retirement are reasons (so Mrs. Staveley says) which nobody knows. He buries himself among his books, in an immense library; and he appears to like it. His son has not been brought up like other young men, at school and college. He is a great scholar, educated at home by his father. To hear this account of his learning depressed me. It seemed to put such a distance between us. I asked Mrs. Staveley if he thought me ignorant. As long as I live I shall remember the reply: “He thinks you charming.”
Any other girl would have been satisfied with this. I am the miserable creature who is always making mistakes. My stupid curiosity spoiled the charm of Mrs. Staveley’s conversation. And yet it seemed to be a harmless question; I only said I should like to know what profession Philip belonged to.
Mrs. Staveley answered: “No profession.”
I foolishly put a wrong meaning on this. I said: “Is he idle?”
Mrs. Staveley laughed. “My dear, he is an only son—and his father is a rich man.”
That stopped me—at last.