text: CHAPTER IV. 
  
  Lady Wallinger and Edith were together in the morning room of Hellingsley, the morrow after the arrival of Oswald. Edith was arranging flowers in a vase, while her aunt was embroidering a Spanish peasant in correct costume. The daughter of Millbank looked as bright and fragrant as the fair creations that surrounded her. Beautiful to watch her as she arranged their forms and composed their groups; to mark her eye glance with gratification at some happy combination of colour, or to listen to her delight as they wafted to her in gratitude their perfume. Oswald and Sir Joseph were surveying the stables; Mr. Millbank, who had been daily expected for the last week from the factories, had not yet arrived. 
  
  'I must say he gained my heart from the first,' said Lady Wallinger. 
  
  'I wish the gardener would send us more roses,' said Edith. 
  
  'He is so very superior to any young man I ever met,' continued Lady Wallinger. 
  
  'I think we must have this vase entirely of roses; don't you think so, aunt?' inquired her niece. 
  
  'I am fond of roses,' said Lady Wallinger. 'What beautiful bouquets Mr. Coningsby gave us at Paris, Edith!' 
  
  'Beautiful!' 
  
  'I must say, I was very happy when I met Mr. Coningsby again at Cambridge,' said Lady Wallinger. 'It gave me much greater pleasure than seeing any of the colleges.' 
  
  'How delighted Oswald seems at having Mr. Coningsby for a companion again!' said Edith. 
  
  'And very naturally,' said Lady Wallinger. 'Oswald ought to deem himself fortunate in having such a friend. I am sure the kindness of Mr. Coningsby when we met him at Cambridge is what I never shall forget. But he always was my favourite from the first time I saw him at Paris. Do you know, Edith, I liked him best of all your admirers.' 