“So, of course, Eulalie will marry him.” The deduction reached Agatha as rather sarcastic, though perhaps more through the interpretation of her own feeling than that of the speaker. She asked, with one of her usual plain speeches:
“Does Eulalie love Mr. Thorpe very much?”
The remark was addressed to both; but after a pause Elizabeth said, “Answer that question, Anne.”
“What sort of an answer do you want, my dear?”
“One perfectly plain. I like simplicity. Is Eulalie much attached to the man she is to marry?”
“Women marry with many forms of love; Eulalie's will do exceedingly well for Mr. Thorpe. He is a very worthy young clergyman, who takes a wife as a matter of necessity. As for love—have you noticed, Agatha, how many women one sees, wives and mothers, who live creditably through a long life, and go down to their graves without ever having known the real meaning of the word?”
Anne was talking more than usual to-night, and Agatha liked to listen. The subject came home to her. “Will Eulalie be one of these?”
“I think so. She may make a very good, attentive wife, but she will never know what is real love.”
“Tell me, what is that sort of love—the right love—which one ought to bring to one's husband?”
Miss Valery looked surprised at the young girl's eager manner. “Are you seriously asking that question? and of me, who never had a husband?”