'Oh, Annaple! Mark! is it so?' cried May joyously, but under her breath; and with a glance to see how near the other couple were.
'Yes,' said Annaple between crying and laughing. 'Poor Janet, she'll think we have taken a frightfully mean advantage of her, but I am sure I never dreamt of such a thing; and the queer thing is, that Mark says she put it into his head!'
'No, no,' said Mark; 'you know better than that—'
'Why, you told me you only found it out when she began to trample on the fallen—'
'I told you I had only understood my own heart.'
'And I said very much the same—she made me so angry you see.'
'I can't but admire your motives!' said May, exceedingly rejoiced all the time, and ready to have embraced them both, if it had not been for the spectators behind. 'In fact, it was opposition you both wanted. I wonder how long you would have gone on not finding it out, if all had been smooth?'
'The worst of it is,' said Annaple, 'that I'm afraid it is a very bad thing for Mark.'
'Not a bit of it,' retorted he. 'It is the only thing that could have put life into my work, or made me care to find any! And find it I will now! Must we let the whole world in to know before I have found it, Annaple?'
'I could not but tell my mother,' said Annaple. 'It would come out in spite of me, even if I wished to keep it back.'