has been his misfortune; for the rest, my dear, he is neither a hero nor a
wonder. So far as I know, there are very few sublime men going about the
world.'

'You really must tell me all you know about him, Cousin Monica. Now don't
refuse.'

'But why should you care to hear? There is really nothing pleasant to
tell.'

'That is just the reason I wish it. If it were at all pleasant, it would be
quite commonplace. I like to hear of adventures, dangers, and misfortunes;
and above all, I love a mystery. You know, papa will never tell me, and I
dare not ask him; not that he is ever unkind, but, somehow, I am afraid;
and neither Mrs. Rusk nor Mary Quince will tell me anything, although I
suspect they know a good deal.'

'I don't see any good in telling you, dear, nor, to say the truth, any
great harm either.'

'No--now that's _quite_ true--no harm. There _can't_ be, for I _must_ know
it all some day, you know, and better now, and from _you_, than perhaps
from a stranger, and in a less favourable way.'

'Upon my word, it is a wise little woman; and really, that's not such bad
sense after all.'

So we poured out another cup of tea each, and sipped it very comfortably by
the fire, while Lady Knollys talked on, and her animated face helped the
strange story.