Sunna dressed herself in a pretty lilac lawn frock, trimmed with the then new and fashionable Scotch open work, and fresh lilac ribbons. Her hair was arranged as Boris liked it best, and it was shielded by one of those fine, large Tuscan hats that have never, even yet, gone out of fashion.
“Why, Sunna!” cried Thora, as she hastened to meet her friend, “how glad am I to see thee!”
“Thou wert in my heart this morning, and I 119 said to it ‘Be content, in an hour I will take thee to thy desire.’” And they clasped hands, and walked thus into the house. “Art thou not tired after the dance?”
“No,” replied Thora, “I was very happy. Do happy people get tired?”
“Yes––one can only bear so much happiness, then it is weariness––sometimes crossness. Too much of any good thing is a bad thing.”
“How wise thou art, Sunna.”
“I live with wisdom.”
“With Adam Vedder?”
“Yes, and thou hast been living with Love, with Mr. Macrae. Very handsome and good-natured he is. I am sure that thou art in love with him! Is that not the case?”
“Very much in love with me he is, Sunna. It is a great happiness. I do not weary of it, no, indeed! To believe in love, to feel it all around you! It is wonderful! You know, Sunna––surely you know?”