indeed, that a Cambridge prizeman, who had evidently read much on
grave and dry subjects, and who had no less evidently seen a great
deal of polished society, could find any other attraction in a very
imperfectly-educated girl, who tamed butterflies and knew no more than
they did of fashionable life, than Mr. Emlyn himself felt in the
presence of a pretty wayward innocent child, the companion and friend
of his Clemmy.

Mrs. Braefield was more discerning; but she had a good deal of tact,
and did not as yet scare Kenelm away from her house by letting him see
how much she had discerned. She would not even tell her husband, who,
absent from the place on most mornings, was too absorbed in the cares
of his own business to interest himself much in the affairs of others.

Now Elsie, being still of a romantic turn of mind, had taken it into
her head that Lily Mordaunt, if not actually the princess to be found
in poetic dramas whose rank was for a while kept concealed, was yet
one of the higher-born daughters of the ancient race whose name she
bore, and in that respect no derogatory alliance for Kenelm
Chillingly. A conclusion she had arrived at from no better evidence
than the well-bred appearance and manners of the aunt, and the
exquisite delicacy of the niece's form and features, with the
undefinable air of distinction which accompanied even her most
careless and sportive moments. But Mrs. Braefield also had the wit to
discover that, under the infantine ways and phantasies of this almost
self-taught girl, there lay, as yet undeveloped, the elements of a
beautiful womanhood. So that altogether, from the very day she first
re-encountered Kenelm, Elsie's thought had been that Lily was the wife
to suit him. Once conceiving that idea, her natural strength of will
made her resolve on giving all facilities to carry it out silently and