_I_ see it. Tell me, my dear, do you like Philip?"

"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