Here, if she approves the attitude of her heroine, I am tempted to
argue, in my dull way, with the charming author of _Sheila_. You must
always remember that there was no love--not even courtship--before
this betrothal. The girl was swept off her feet by the honour done to
her and by the chance of seeing "life" as she had never hoped to
see it. The man, on his side, wanted a son. Was his object so very
contemptible in comparison with hers? Women marry by the myriad for
the mere sake of having children, and nobody blames them. Indeed, we
call it, very reverentially, the maternal instinct. Well, what is the
matter with the paternal instinct?

However, I am not going to set my opinion up against Miss SOWERBY'S.
Where I can follow her I find so much clear insight and observation
that I must needs have faith in her good judgment where I cannot
understand. This arrangement still leaves me free to prefer her in
her less serious moments. Here she is irresistible with that delicate
humour of hers that is always in the picture and never has to resort
to the device of manufactured epigram. There is true artistry in her
lightest touch. Her people are not galvanised puppets; they simply
draw their breath and there they are. And she has the particular
quality of charm that makes you yield your heart to her, even when
your head remains your own.

How much she owes to Miss FAY COMPTON'S interpretation of _Sheila_
she would be the first to make generous acknowledgment. It was an
astonishingly sensitive performance. Miss COMPTON can be eloquent with
a single word or none at all. By a turn of her eyes or lips she can
make you free of her inarticulate thoughts. I must go again just to
hear her say "Yes," and give that sigh of content at the end of the
First Act.