such an idea . . .

Miss Laetitia Rowly recognised that she had a difficult task before
her, for she was by now accustomed to Stephen's quiet method of
having her own way.

She made a careful toilet before driving over to Normanstand. Her
wearing her best bonnet was a circumstance not unattended with dread
for some one. Behold her then, sailing into the great drawing-room
at Normanstand with her mind so firmly fixed on the task before her
as to be oblivious of minor considerations. She was so fond of
Stephen, and admired so truly her many beauties and fine qualities,
that she was secure and without flaw in her purpose. Stephen was in
danger, and though she doubted if she would be able to effect any
change, she was determined that at least she should not go into
danger with her eyes unopened.

Stephen entered hastily and ran to her. She loved her great-aunt;
really and truly loved her. And indeed it would have been strange if
she had not, for from the earliest hour which she could recollect she
had received from her nothing but the truest, fondest affection.
Moreover she deeply respected the old lady, her truth, her
resolution, her kindliness, her genuine common-sense ability.
Stephen always felt safe with her aunt. In the presence of others
she might now and again have a qualm or a doubt; but not with her.
There was an abiding calm in her love, answering love realised and
respected. Her long and intimate knowledge of Laetitia made her
aware of her moods. She could read the signs of them. She knew well
the meaning of the bonnet which actually seemed to quiver as though
it had a sentience of its own. She knew well the cause of her aunt's