"And what are you going to do?" he asks, suddenly.
It is like a great wave and almost takes her off her feet.
"You must not think of me, nor watch me, nor anything"; and an observant man would note the strain of agony in her voice. "It was very good in your brother to take care of me as he did. Mr. Sherburne said to-day that not one man in a hundred would have brought the matter to such a successful issue. And you know if everything had been lost, why, I should have been a burthen on him. Think of us having nothing at all! What could you do?"
He shrugs his shoulders in the dark, and he knows he should not want her or any other woman in poverty.
"I shall have a pleasant life," she continues. "I can do a great deal for Cecil; and I can copy and translate, and Mr. Grandon is so fond of music. I know we shall be happy when this business no longer perplexes him and he has a little leisure. He is always so good and thoughtful. You couldn't expect him to love a little girl like me, fresh from a convent, with no especial beauty," she says, with heroic bravery.
"And you will forget about me," the young man returns, with jealous selfishness.
"I shall forget nothing that is right to be remembered," she says, steadily; "and I like Miss Murray; we shall be friends always. She seems such a young girl and I am only eighteen. We shall love each other and take an interest in each other's houses. Now that Gertrude is away, no one cares very much for me."
"It is a shame!" he interrupts, indignantly. "You and Polly must always love each other. We shall live somewhere around Grandon Park, I suppose."
"And we will all end like a fairy story," she declares, trying to laugh, but it is such a poor, mirthless sound.
She sees with secret joy that he is somewhat comforted, and she trusts to Polly's fascinations to achieve the rest. Love is not quite what poets sing about, unless in such lives as Mr. and Mrs. Latimer.