Primrose's sweet face was scarlet, and her eyes suddenly fluttered down with tremulous lids.
"Thou hast been a dear little sister," going back to the Quaker speech. "Thy happiness will be much to me; thy pain, if any happened to thee, would be my pain. Thy prosperity will always be my prayer, for I think thou wert born for sunniness and clear sailing and joy, with someone bright and young like thyself."
"A little sister," she repeated softly. If it was that and only that, her conscience would be clear.
"Yes. Didst thou ever doubt it?"
He raised his serene brown eyes and smiled. He was not one to carry all his soul in his eyes.
"Nay, and I never shall." She pressed her lips to his forehead, which was as fair as any girl's. How long it had been since he kissed her! He might trust himself again on her wedding day.
"And now tell me about Rachel. We have queer talk of loves and such."
"He is a young man, a neighbor, the eldest of several sons. And Rachel hath a nice dower. I hope all will go well."
She was infinitely sorry for Rachel at that moment.
"You will come soon and see us. I send love to Aunt Lois," and Primrose turned.