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longer。 That is my little wild strawberry； Hunsden； whose
sweetness made me careless of your hothouse grapes。”
“Stop！ No boasting—no heroics； I won’t hear them。 What is
she？ To what caste does she belong？”
I smiled。 Hunsden unconsciously laid stress on the word caste；
and； in fact； republican； lord…hater as he was； Hunsden was as
proud of his old —…shire blood； of his descent and family standing；
respectable and respected through long generations back； as any
peer in the realm of his Norman race and Conquest…dated title。
Hunsden would as little have thought of taking a wife from a caste
inferior to his own； as a Stanley would think of mating with a
Cobden。 I enjoyed the surprise I should give； I enjoyed the
triumph of my practice over his theory； and leaning over the table；
and uttering the words slowly but with repressed glee； I said
concisely—
“She is a lace…mender。”
Hunsden examined me。 He did not say he was surprised； but
surprised he was； he had his own notions of good breeding。 I saw
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he suspected I was going to take some very rash step； but
repressing declamation or remonstrance； he only answered—
“Well； you are the best； judge of your own affairs。 A lace…
mender may make a good wife as well as a lady； but of course you
have taken care to ascertain thoroughly that since she has not
education； fortune or station； she is well furnished with such
natural qualities as you think most likely to conduce to your
happiness。 Has she many relations？”
“None in Brussels。”
“That is better。 Relations are often the real evil in such cases。 I
cannot but think that a train of inferior connections would have
been a bore to you to your life’s end。”
After sitting in silence a little while longer； Hunsden rose； and
was quietly bidding me good evening； the polite； considerate
manner in which he offered me his hand （a thing he had never
done before）； convinced me that he thought I had made a terrible
fool of myself； and that； ruined and thrown away as I was； it was
no time for sarcasm or cynicism； or indeed for anything but
indulgence and forbearance。
“Good night； William；” he said； in a really soft voice； while his
face looked benevolently compassionate。 “Good night； lad。 I wish
you and your future wife much prosperity； and I hope she will
satisfy your fastidious soul。”
I had much ado to refrain from laughing as I beheld the
magnanimous pity of his mien； maintaining； however； a grave air；
I said：—
“I thought you would have liked to have seen Mdlle Henri？”
“Oh； that is the name！ Yes—if it would be convenient； I should
like to see her—but—。” He hesitated。
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“Well？”
“I should on no account wish to intrude。”
“Come； then；” said I。 We set out。 Hunsden no doubt regarded
me as a rash； imprudent man； thus to show my poor little grisette
sweetheart； in her poor little unfurnished grenier； but he prepared
to act the real gentleman； having； in fact； the kernel of that
character； under the harsh husk it pleased him to wear by way of
mental mackintosh。 He talked affably； and even gently； as we went
along the street； he had never been so civil to me in his life。 We
reached the house； entered； ascended the stair； on gaining the
lobby； Hunsden turned to mount a narrower stair which led to a
higher story； I saw his mind was bent on the attics。
“Here； Mr。 Hunsden；” said I quietly； tapping at Frances’ door。
He turned； in his genuine politeness he was a little disconcerted at
having made the mistake； his eye reverted to the green mat； but he
said nothing。
We walked in； and Frances rose from her seat near the table to
receive us； her mourning attire gave her a recluse； rather
conventual； but withal very distinguished look； its grave simplicity
added nothing to beauty； but much to dignity； the finish of the
white collar and manchettes sufficed for a relief to the merino
gown of solemn black； ornament was forsworn。 Frances curtsied
with sedate grace； looking； as she always did； when one first
accosted her； more a woman to respect than to love； I introduced
Mr。 Hunsden； and she expressed her happiness at making his
acquaintance in French。 The pure and polished accent； the low yet
sweet and rather full voice； produced their effect immediately；
Hunsden spoke French in reply； I had not heard him speak that
language before； he managed it very well。 I retired to the window…
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seat； Mr。 Hunsden； at his hostess’s invitation； occupied a chair
near the hearth； from my position I could see them both； and the
room too； at a glance。 The room was so clean and bright； it looked
like a little polished cabinet； a glass filled with flowers in the
centre of the table； a fresh rose in each china cup on the
mantelpiece gave it an air of fête ； Frances was serious； and Mr。
Hunsden subdued； but both mutually polite； they got on at the
French swimmingly： ordinary topics were discussed with great
state and decorum； I thought I had never seen two such models of
propriety； for Hunsden （thanks to the constraint of the foreign
tongue） was obliged to shape his phrases； and measure his
sentences； with a care that forbade any eccentricity。 At last
England was mentioned； and Frances proceeded to ask questions。
Animated by degrees； she began to change； just as a grave night…
sky changes at the approach of sunrise： first it seemed as if her
forehead cleared； then her eyes glittered； her features relaxed； and
became quite mobile； her subdued complexion grew warm and
transparent； to me； she now looked pretty； before； she had only
looked ladylike。
She had many things to say to the Englishman just fresh from
his island…country； and she urged him with an enthusiasm of
curiosity； which ere long thawed Hunsden’s reserve as fire thaws a
congealed viper。 I use this not very flattering comparison because
he vividly reminded me of a snake waking from torpor； as he
erected his tall form； reared his head； before a little declined； and
putting back his hair from his broad Saxon forehead； showed
unshaded the gleam of almost savage satire which his
interlocutor’s tone of eagerness and look of ardour had sufficed at
once to kindle in his soul and elicit from his eyes： he was himself；
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as Frances was herself； and in none but his own language would
he now address her。
“You understand English？” was the prefatory question。
“A little。”
“Well； then； you shall have plenty of it； and first； I see you’ve
not much more sense than some others of my acquaintance”
（indicating me with his thumb）； “or else you’d never turn rabid
about that dirty little country called England； for rabid； I see you
are； I read Anglophobia in your looks； and hear it in your words。
Why； mademoiselle； is it possible that anybody with a grain of
rationality should feel enthusiasm about a mere name； and that
name E