"I am very surprised: it is such a strange question for my Laura to ask! I hope all husbands are good." "No, not all," I hastened to answer; "Lady Conyngham's was not--I heard her say so." "I am sorry you heard it--you must not repeat it; you are much too young to talk about husbands, Laura." Of course I did not mention then again--equally of course I did not think less of this mysterious kind of beings.
My beautiful mother was very happy with her husband, Sir Roland--she loved him exceedingly, and he was devoted to her.

The other ladies said he spoiled her, he was so attentive, so devoted, so kind.

I have met with every variety of species which puzzled my childish mind, but none so perfect as he was then.
"You do not know what trouble means, dear Lady Tayne." "With a husband like yours, life is all sunshine." "You have been spoiled with kindness!" All these exclamations I used to hear, until I became quite sure that my father was the best husband in the world.
On my tenth birthday my father would have a large ball, and he insisted that I should be present at it.

My mother half hesitated, but he insisted; so, thanks to him, I have one perfectly happy memory.

I thought far more of my beautiful mother than myself.