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'
'But when you saw me rushing about with the terriers--I must have seemed
utterly horrid.'
'Why, dearest There is nothing essentially horrible in terriers, or in a
bright lively girl running races with them. You made a very pretty
picture in the sunlight, with your hat hanging on your shoulder, and
your curly brown hair and dancing hazel eyes. If I had not been deep in
love with Lesbia's peerless complexion and Grecian features, I should
have looked below the surface of that Gainsborough picture, and
discovered what treasures of goodness, and courage, and truth and purity
those frank brown eyes and that wide forehead betokened. I was sowing my
wild oats last summer, Mary, and they brought me a crop of sorrow But I
am wiser now--wiser and happier.
'But if you were to see Lesbia again would not the old love revive?'
'The old love is dead, Mary. There is nothing left of it but a handful
of ashes, which I scatter thus to the four winds,' with a wave of his
hand towards the open casement. 'The new love absorbs and masters my
being.


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