to talk about husbands, Laura."

Of course I did not mention then again--equally of course I did not
think less of this mysterious kind of beings.

My beautiful mother was very happy with her husband, Sir Roland--she
loved him exceedingly, and he was devoted to her. The other ladies said
he spoiled her, he was so attentive, so devoted, so kind. I have met
with every variety of species which puzzled my childish mind, but none
so perfect as he was then.

"You do not know what trouble means, dear Lady Tayne." "With a husband
like yours, life is all sunshine." "You have been spoiled with
kindness!"

All these exclamations I used to hear, until I became quite sure that my
father was the best husband in the world.

On my tenth birthday my father would have a large ball, and he insisted
that I should be present at it. My mother half hesitated, but he
insisted; so, thanks to him, I have one perfectly happy memory. I
thought far more of my beautiful mother than myself. I stood in the
hall, watching her as she came down the great staircase, great waves of
shining silk and trailing laces making her train, diamonds gleaming in
her golden hair, her white neck and arms bare; so tall, slender and
stately, like the picture of some lovely young queen. Papa and I stood
together watching her.

"Let me kiss her first!" I cried, running to her.