"But you can laugh, and yet look up, or life would be very dull. Who do you go to when you want to know anything that father can't teach you?"
"To Mr. Warde," acknowledged Marjorie.
"And when you want to go anywhere?"
"Yes; but only because he has a carriage—and we haven't."
"And when you want to see the picture galleries?"
"He can go; he always has time. But all that doesn't mean that I want to marry him," she added.
"But it is just that. You already look to him for most of your pleasures. That is a long way towards loving him. You would find him a very kind husband and friend."
"Oh! mother, what must I do?" entreated Marjorie, the tears coming into her eyes. "He has spoilt everything. It is Charity's garden-party this afternoon, and I shall be so uncomfortable. Couldn't you go, mother, in your chair?"
Mrs. Bethune's face changed.
"I could, dear. Yes, I will go; perhaps it will be difficult for you." She sighed softly; she was hardly as yet reconciled to her helplessness in public, in spite of the cheery spirit which enabled her to bear suffering with such courage.