Mrs. Octagon
disapproved of Juliet's pale cheeks and want of attention to
her own fascinating conversation, so, when alone, she took the
opportunity to correct her.
"My child," said Mrs. Octagon, who always spoke in a tragic
manner, and in a kind of blank-verse way, "to me it seems your
cheeks are somewhat pale."
"I had no sleep last night," said Juliet, throwing down the
book.
"Your thoughts concerned themselves with Cuthbert's face, no
doubt, my love," said her mother fondly.
"No, I was not thinking of him. I was worried about--about--
my new dress," she finished, after vainly casting about for
some more sensible reason.
"How foolish children are. You trouble about your dress when
you should have been thinking of the man who loves you."
"Does Cuthbert love me?" asked Juliet, flushing.
"As Romeo loved your namesake, sweetest child. And a very
good match it is too," added Mrs. Octagon, relapsing into
prose. "He is Lord Caranby's heir, and will have a title and
a fortune some day. But I would not force you to wed against
your will, my dear."
"I love Cuthbert and Cuthbert loves me," said Juliet quickly,
"we quite understand one another. I wonder why he did not
come to-day."
"Ah," said her mother playfully, "I saw that your thoughts
were otherwhere. Your eyes wandered constantly to the door.
He may come late. By the way, where is my dearest son?"
"Basil? He went out this morning. I believe he intended to
call on Aunt Selina.
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