"I have seen so much less of you than I should have liked.
Naturally; now I see the reason why! You will love me a little, won't you? I think I may say I gain on being known."
And terminating these observations with the softest cadence of her voice, the Baroness imprinted a sort of grand official kiss upon Gertrude's forehead.
Increased familiarity had not, to Gertrude's imagination, diminished the mysterious impressiveness of Eugenia's personality, and she felt flattered and transported by this little ceremony.
Robert Acton also seemed to admire it, as he admired so many of the gracious manifestations of Madame Munster's wit.
They had the privilege of making him restless, and on this occasion he walked away, suddenly, with his hands in his pockets, and then came back and leaned against his column. Eugenia was now complimenting her uncle upon his daughter's engagement, and Mr. Wentworth was listening with his usual plain yet refined politeness.
It is to be supposed that by this time his perception of the mutual relations of the young people who surrounded him had become more acute; but he still took the matter very seriously, and he was not at all exhilarated.
"Felix will make her a good husband," said Eugenia.
"He will be a charming companion; he has a great quality--indestructible gayety."
"You think that 's a great quality?" asked the old man.
Eugenia meditated, with her eyes upon his. "You think one gets tired of it, eh?"
"I don't know that I am prepared to say that," said Mr. Wentworth.
"Well, we will say, then, that it is tiresome for others but delightful for one's self. A woman's husband, you know, is supposed to be her second self; so that, for Felix and Gertrude, gayety will be a common property."
"Gertrude was always very gay," said Mr. Wentworth.
He was trying to follow this argument.
Robert Acton took his hands out of his pockets and came a little nearer to the Baroness. "You say you gain by being known," he said.
"One certainly gains by knowing you."