"I don't know why you should say so," answered a proud but choked
voice.

"I say so," replied the clear tones, firmly, though with a touch of
pity, "because I see it. Cecil, poor child, they married you very
young!"

"I missed nothing," exclaimed Cecil; but she felt that she could
only say so in the past, and her eyes burnt with unshed tears.

"No, my dear, you were still a girl, and your deeper woman's heart
had not grown to perceive that it was not met."

"He chose me," she faintly said.

"His mother needed a daughter. It was proper for him to marry, and
you were the most eligible party. I will answer for it that he
warned you how little he could give."

"He did," cried Cecil. "He did tell me that he could not begin in
freshness and warmth, like a young man; but I thought it only meant
that we were too sensible to care about nonsense, and liked him for
it. He always must have been staid and reserved--he could never
have been different, Camilla. Don't smile in that way! Tell me
what you mean."

"My dear Cecil, I knew Raymond Poynsett a good many years before you
did."

"And--well? Then he had a first love?" said Cecil, in a voice