Blue Beard
'A greyish-blue,' hazarded Fatima. 'A bluish-grey, rather,' her mother corrected her: that is, if I must define the shade as it appears to me.'
'And,' still hesitated Fatima, 'since it has begun to change, there seems no reason why it should not continue to do so.'
'My darling'—her mother kissed her—'that is precisely the point! Its colour is changing, you say. But for what reason? Obviously because he is in love; and what love has begun, love can carry to a conclusion. Nay, but put it on the ground of pity alone. Could a feeling heart set itself any task more angelic than to rescue so worthy a gentleman from so hideous an affliction—if affliction it be, which I am far from allowing?'
Fatima reflected on her mother's advice, but thought it prudent to consult her sister Anne and her step-brothers before coming to a decision which, once taken, must be irrevocable.
They listened to her very good-naturedly; though, to tell the truth, all three were somewhat jaded, having sat up all night at the card-tables,
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