"Then why look at them?"
"To avoid them--lest they sting you," says Minnie, feeling quite pleased with herself for this flight of fancy.
"You think," says t.i.ta, stopping and looking at her, "that Mrs.
Bethune will sting me?"
"I think nothing," says Minnie Hescott, throwing out her hands in an airy fashion; "only, get rid of her--get rid of her, t.i.ta, as soon as ever you can!"
"To get rid of a guest! _No,"_ says t.i.ta. "She may stay here, and I shall make her welcome for ever----" She pauses and looks full at her cousin. There is great courage and great pride in her look. "For ever!" repeats she.
"There is always a fool somewhere!" says Minnie Hescott, with a sigh. "Well," abandoning the discussion for the present, "let us go for our walk round the garden."
As they pa.s.s beneath the balcony, Margaret, who is leaning over it, with Colonel Neilson beside her, makes a little irrepressible movement.
"What is it now?" asks he, who knows every mood of hers.
"Nothing. I was only thinking about t.i.ta."
"A charming subject."
"Oh! _too_ charming," says Margaret, with a sigh. "That child troubles me."
"But why? She seems to be getting on all right, in spite of your evil prognostications before her marriage. She and Rylton seem on very good terms."
"Not to-day, at all events," shaking her head.
"No? I confess I did think there was a little rift somewhere."
"Oh yes! There is something," says Margaret somewhat impatiently.
"Did you see the poor child"s eyes, and her whole air? Her pretty little attempts at unconcern?"
"I thought Rylton looked rather put out, too."
"I didn"t look at him. I have no patience with him. It is a mad marriage for any man to make." She pauses. "I am afraid there was some disagreeableness last night." She hesitates again. Though quite determined never to marry Colonel Neilson or any other man, she permits herself the luxury of retaining Neilson as a confidential friend. "I wish her cousin, Mr. Hescott, was not quite so attentive to her. She is very young, of course, but I don"t think she ought to have danced so much with him last night."
"And what of Rylton?" asks the Colonel, pulling the gla.s.s out of his eye and sticking it in again in an angry fashion. "Who did _he_ dance with?"
"Yes. I saw," sadly.
"Well, why should he complain, then?" says Neilson, who can see the right and the wrong so _much_ better because it is not his own case.
"To tell you the truth, Margaret, I think Mrs. Bethune should not be here."
"I think that, too. But it appears it was t.i.ta who invited her."
"My dear girl, who else? But there is such a thing as coercion."
"It was the prettiest, the most cordial letter. I read it."
"Then you think she knows nothing of that old affair?"
"Old?" She looks quickly at Neilson. "Do you think it is old--worn out, I mean?"
"No, I don"t," says Neilson promptly. "And in my opinion, the sooner Mrs. Bethune terminates her visit the better for everyone."
"What an unhappy marriage!" says Margaret, with a sigh. "All marriages are unhappy, I think."
"Not a bit of it. Most of the married people we know would not separate even were the power given them to do so."
"That is merely because they have grown necessary to each other."
"Well, what is love?" says Neilson, who is always defending his great cause against Margaret"s attacks. "Was there ever a lover yet, who did not think the woman he loved necessary to him?"
"It is not the higher form of love," says Margaret, who still dreams of an ideal, born of her first attachment--an ideal that never in this practical world could have been realized, and if it _could,_ would have been condemned at once as tiresome to the last degree.
"It is high enough for most people," says Neilson. "Don"t grow pessimistic, Margaret. There is a great deal of light and joy and laughter in the world, and I know _no_ one so framed to enjoy it as yourself, if only you would give yourself full sway. You condemn marriage, yet how can you speak of it with authority--you who have not tried it?"
"Oh, do, _do_ stop," says Margaret, lifting her hand. "You are getting on that--that wretched old tack again."
"So I am. I know it. I shall be on that tack to the end of my life.
And I think it so unfair of you to condemn anybody without even a hearing."
"Why, I must," says she, laughing in spite of herself.
"No, you needn"t. Marry me, and then give judgment!"
"I shall never marry," says Margaret, with cold decision; then, as if ashamed of her tone, she looks up at him. It is rather a shy look, and makes her even more admirable in the eyes of the man watching her. _"Why_ will you persist?" asks she.
"I must. I must."
"It sounds like a doom," says she lightly, though tears are gathering in her eyes. "Don"t waste your life. _Don"t!"_
"I am not wasting it. I am spending it on you," says the Colonel, who is really a delightful lover.
"Ah! but that is so dreadful--for me!"
"Do I worry you, then?"
"No! no! A thousand times no!" cries she eagerly. "It is only that I must always reproach myself?"
"Why always? Give in, Margaret, and let me change my place from lover to husband."
"It is often a fatal change."
"You mistrust me?"
"You! No, indeed! You least of all. I believe in you from my very soul! Don"t think that, Harry. But," impatiently, "why go over it again and again?"
Colonel Neilson turns a solemn face to hers.