a sacred and ideal memory; the other, old Margery Graem, my
childhood's friend and nurse, now my housekeeper and general tender
and mender. Her faithful heart and constant remembrance help to keep
me true to the ideal of that sweet presence which faded from beside
me when I stood on the threshold of manhood. Margery lives at Castle
Gleneesh. When I return home, the sight which first meets my eyes as
the hall door opens is old Margery in her black satin apron, lawn
kerchief, and lavender ribbons. I always feel seven then, and I
always hug her. You, Miss Champion, don't like me when I feel seven;
but Margery does. Now, this is what I want you to realise. When I
bring a bride to Gleneesh and present her to Margery, the kind old
eyes will try to see nothing but good; the faithful old heart will
yearn to love and serve. And yet I shall know she knows the
standard, just as I know it; I shall know she remembers the ideal of
gentle, tender, Christian womanhood, just as I remember it; and I
must not, I dare not, fall short. Believe me, Miss Champion, more
than once, when physical attraction has been strong, and I have been
tempted in the worship of the outward loveliness to disregard or
forget the essentials,--the things which are unseen but eternal,--
then, all unconscious of exercising any such influence, old
Margery's clear eyes look into mine, old Margery's mittened hand
seems to rest upon my coat sleeve, and the voice which has guided me
from infancy, says, in gentle astonishment: `Is this your choice,
Master Garthie, to fill my dear lady's place?' No doubt, Miss
Champion, it will seem almost absurd to you when you think of our
set and our sentiments, and the way we racket round that I should
sit here on the duchess's lawn and confess that I have been held
back from proposing marriage to the women I have most admired,
because of what would have been my old nurse's opinion of them! But
you must remember her opinion is formed by a memory, and that memory