their relationship, just as it suits them. "Is your cousin
a married lady?" I ventured to inquire.

"No."

Short as it was, that reply might perhaps mean more than appeared
on the surface. The cook had heard the lady crying. What sort of
tender agitation was answerable for those tears? Was it possible,
barely possible, that Eunice and I might go to bed, one night,
a widower's daughters, and wake up the next day to discover
a stepmother?

"Have I or my sister ever seen the lady?" I asked.

"Never. She has been living abroad; and I have not seen her
myself since we were both young people."

My excellent innocent father! Not the faintest idea of what I had
been thinking of was in his mind. Little did he suspect how
welcome was the relief that he had afforded to his daughter's
wicked doubts of him. But he had not said a word yet about
his cousin's personal appearance. There might be remains of good
looks which the housemaid was too stupid to discover.

"After the long interval that has passed since you met," I said,
"I suppose she has become an old woman?"

"No, my dear. Let us say, a middle-aged woman."

"Perhaps she is still an attractive person?"