Mary shrugged her shoulders impatiently, and said, "To the point, Helena, if you please."
"Shure now, you wouldn't be for hurrying and flusthering a poor young crature!" answered Helena, with provoking trifling; but, seeing that Mary looked really annoyed, she added in a more sober tone, "Well, I said I would be serious, and so I will; please, Mary, do have a little patience with me. My reasons, then, are threefold: first, I wanted a confidant; secondly, I chose you because I know that, after all, you are fond of your madcap sister, and can help her so much if you choose to do so; thirdly, I could repay your kindness by telling you something which you would be glad to hear."
"Helena!" interrupted Mary, whilst an angry flush spread itself over her face.
"Nay, Mary, hear me out; I did not mean to speak of this as a bribe; I know you too well to imagine that you would be induced to help me to a little enjoyment for the sake of any self-gratification; for that I depend on your affection; yet, as I said before, it is pleasant to feel that I can repay you; or, if you will not help me, you shall have my information gratis."
"I don't in the least know what you mean, Helena," rejoined Mary, in her coldest manner.
"Of course not, you never knew a young lady who was considered a model of sense, held up as a pattern to an incorrigibly wild younger sister, who was always at some mischief or other, flirting—what not? Well, this young lady did really seem to be a model one, and an immovable rock of sense; to possess those treasures, a well-regulated mind, and a heart which, like a good watch, but ticked slow or fast according to the regulator; and to have far too much dignity, self-respect, proper pride, and all the rest of it, ever to care the least for any man until he had formally proposed, and was accepted with the full approbation of her family; when—would you believe it, Mary?—all——"
"Nonsense, Helena, I shall not stay to hear any more of this." Mary stood up looking flushed and angry. "Let me go, please," she continued, as Helena held her dress; but Helena held on, saying—
"Mary, you must sit down again, and let me say what I have to say, or I shall be obliged to describe the model young lady to somebody else, and see if they can recognise the original." She put her arms round her sister's waist, and, pulling her down upon the sofa, seated herself on the ground at her feet; then she went on, "When you interrupted me, Mary, I was just going to ask you if you could believe it, that all of a sudden this compound of dignity, self-respect, and maidenly reserve fell in love with a man who didn't care a pin for her"—Mary winced—"and this was not all: she became furiously jealous of a young lady friend who did seem to interest him, a supposed woman-hater, not a little. A few glances and unheeded words betrayed it all to the giddy girl, who immediately felt a new well of love spring up in her heart for that apparently immovable sister, whom she had discovered to be something more than the well-regulated timepiece she had before seemed to be. She saw her suffer silently; she saw tears, all unbidden, start into her eyes; she longed to throw her arms round her, and win her to tell her pain, and thus lessen its sting; to help her, perhaps, and give her hope. Mary, my sister, let me comfort you as well as I can; further secresy is useless,—I have seen it all. Love makes us wondrously keen-sighted. Had I not known something of the little god's wiles myself, I might not have been so sharp. Confide in me, Mary; I am generally thoughtless, it is true, and talk at random, but I can be silent as the grave where I love, and I love my sister."
Poor Mary could bear it no longer; the slowly-gathering tears fell, at last, as Helena looked up fondly and pleadingly at her. And the sisters changed rôles: the calm reserved Mary sobbed passionately, and Helena endeavoured to soothe and comfort her.