She had an undefined feeling that any possible vestige of romance was being eliminated from her love-affair by all these bright and kindly discussions. She felt more at a loss than ever.
"But, after all, Lily, nobody can make up your mind for you. It's a thing you must really decide entirely for yourself. The scissors, if you wouldn't mind, dear. I should hardly feel justified in talking to you at all, if I wasn't so fond of you, and then you've no mother, poor dear! But I shouldn't dream of influencing you, one way or the other."
There was a pause, and Lily picked up a reel of cotton and handed Mrs. Hardinge the scissors.
"It would give your father the greatest happiness, of course, and he's had a sad life, Lily. He never got over the loss of your mother, as Charlie says. And then if anything happened to him, well, of course, there'd be a home for you and for Kenneth and someone to look after you both. Not that you couldn't always count on us for anything we could do, but nothing can be the same as one's very own belongings. With a husband, you see, there's always somebody there."
"That's just what I'm afraid of, in a way," said Lily, at last gathering courage. "I mean that it would be so dreadful if one found one didn't care enough, and yet one was permanently tied."
"But, my dear child," said Mrs. Hardinge earnestly, "there is a love that comes after marriage, you know. Not the same thing as being in love, but something that really lasts. Many a girl who hasn't known whether she was in love or not, or who really isn't in love with the man at first, finds everything quite different once she's really married to him."
Lily listened believingly. Nothing seemed to her more probable than that the married state, about which there hung many mysterious reticences, should operate some startling change of outlook by means unguessed at by the uninitiated.
"Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Hardinge hopefully, "you're more in love than you think you are. Very often girls don't realize things—and then before they know where they are, it's too late, and may mean a life-time of regret."
Thinking this over, it appeared to Lily that Cousin Ethel, who was so kind and knew so much about young girls, held that if one was in love, very likely one didn't know it until after one had married the man and that if one wasn't, it was still worth while marrying him because there was something better than being in love, that came after marriage.
The only remaining alternative seemed to be the life-time of regret.