"

"I think he is light of heart."

"Oh, no, Miss Dale."

"And how am I to become his wife unless I love him well enough
myself? Mrs. Arabin, I have made up my mind about it. I shall never
become any man's wife. Mamma and I are all in all together, and we
shall remain together." And as soon as these words were out of her
mouth, she hated herself for having spoken them. There was a maudlin,
missish, namby-pamby sentimentality about them which disgusted her.
She specially desired to be straightforward, resolute of purpose,
honest-spoken, and free from all touch of affectation. And yet she
had excused herself from marrying John Eames after the fashion of a
sick schoolgirl. "It is no good talking about it any more," she said,
getting up from her chair quickly.

"You are not angry with me;--or at any rate you will forgive me?"

"I'm quite sure you have meant to be very good, and I am not a bit
angry."

"And you will see him before you go?"

"Oh, yes; that is if he likes to come to-day, or early to-morrow. I
go home to-morrow. I cannot refuse him, because he is such an old
friend,--almost like a brother. But it is of no use, Mrs. Arabin."
Then Mrs. Arabin kissed her and left her, telling her that Mr. Eames
would come to her that afternoon at half-past five. Lily promised
that she would be at home to receive him.

"Won't you ride with us for the last time?" said Emily Dunstable when
Lily gave notice that she would not want the horse on that afternoon.

"No; not to-day."

"You'll never have another opportunity of riding with Emily
Dunstable," said the bride elect;--"at least I hope not."

"Even under those circumstances I must refuse, though I would give a
guinea to be with you. John Eames is coming here to say good-by."

"Oh; then indeed you must not come with us. Lily, what will you say
to him?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, Lily, think of it."

"I have thought of it. I have thought of nothing else. I am tired of
thinking of it. It is no good to think of anything so much. What does
it matter?"

"It is very good to have some one to love better than all the world
besides."

"I have some one," said Lily, thinking of her mother, but not caring
to descend again to the mawkish weakness of talking about her.

"Yes; but some one to be always with you, to do everything for you;
to be your very own."

"It is all very well for you," said Lily, "and I think that Bernard
is the luckiest fellow in the world; but it will not