"That was long after he came home, Elsie?"
"Yes; but I had written him all sorts of things about you; and you remember when he came to the school to visit me, how I made you go down without telling you who was there."
"Yes—I remember."
"He praised you very highly, and I told him what a dear you were; and how sad it was for you to have lost all your fortune and be obliged to teach."
The color slightly deepened on Elizabeth's cheek; was it possible that in the beginning Grantley Mellen had been interested in her from a feeling of pity and commiseration?
Her engagement had been a brief one; during it, the days had passed in a constant whirl of excitement and happiness, and she had found little time to question or reflect: up to the last hour there had been no shadow on her enjoyment—she had resolutely swept aside everything but her deep happiness.
But it was strange that in the very first flush of her married life this conversation with Elsie should come up. She knew it was only the girl's heedlessness and pretty egotism that made her talk in this really cruel fashion, she was sure of that; still her nature was too proud and self-reliant, for the idea that Mellen had been first attracted towards her from sympathy at her lonely condition, to be at all pleasant.
But Elsie was going on with her careless revelations, playing with the rings which Mellen had put one after another on those delicate fingers during their engagement, making each one precious with kisses and loving words.
"So, when I saw how sorry he was for you, I knew that I should have my own way. I longed to see this dear old house open once more; it had been given up to the servants ever since he hurried off to Europe; and I wanted you for my companion always, you darling."
"It was fortunate for your wishes that Grantley's heart inclined in the direction you had marked out," said Elizabeth.