"What will he do, then?—carry it on by correspondence?"
"No, that is always unsatisfactory. I fancy he will come here occasionally: it is the most natural place, and he is especially eager to meet you."
"Of course!" said Mistress Mary, reciting provokingly:
"'My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,
But with my numbers mix my sighs,
And whilst I sing Euphelia’s praise
I fix my soul on Chloe’s eyes.'"
"How delightful," she added, "how inspiring it is to see a young man so devoted to science, particularly to this neglected science! I shall be charmed to know more of his psychology and observe his observations."
"He is extremely clever."
"I have no doubt of it from what you tell me, both clever and ingenious."
"And his cottage is lovely; it will be finished and furnished by next summer,—Queen Anne, you know."
Now, this was so purely irrelevant that there was a wicked hint of intention about it; and though Mistress Mary was smiling (and quaking) in the very depths of her heart,
