They curved now as she looked up from her note. "Well, daughter?" She
had sealed the note and laid it one side. "Was it a good lesson?" She
leaned back in her chair, stroking the child's hand softly, while her
eyes travelled over the quaint, dignified little figure. The child was
a Velasquez--people had often remarked it, and the mother had taken the
note that gave to her clothes the regal air touched with simplicity. "So
it was a good lesson, was it?" she repeated, absently, as she stroked
the small dark hand--her own figure graciously outlined as she leaned
back enjoying the lifted face and straight, clear eyes.

"Mother-dear!" The child's voice vibrated with the intensity behind it.
"I have seen a man--a very _good_ man!"

"Yes?" There was a little laugh in the word. She was accustomed to the
child's enthusiasms. Yet they were always new to her--even the old ones
were. "Who was he, daughter--this very good man?"

"He is a Greek, mother--with a long, beautiful name--I don't think I can
tell it to you. But he is most wonderful--!" The child spread her hands
and drew a deep breath.

"More wonderful than father?" It was an idle, laughing question--while
she studied the lifted-up face.

"More wonderful than father--yes--" The child nodded gravely. "I can't
quite tell you, mother-dear, how it feels--" She laid a tiny hand on
her chest. Her eyes were full of thought. "He speaks like music, and he
loves things--oh, very much!"