Fearful of having in some way betrayed her secret—the only conclusion she could draw from Cyn's extraordinary outburst—Nattie stood looking guiltily at the floor a few moments, then recovering herself, she went to Cyn, and said, in a voice full of emotion,
"I do not just comprehend your meaning, dear, but it may be you think I might not quite like the idea, on account of that—that first affair on the wire. If so, dismiss the thought. You and Clem are suited to each other, and—" Nattie stopped, unable to continue.
Cyn, who had been beating the innocent pillow, as if it was the cause of all this, while Nattie was speaking, now threw it across the room, as she exclaimed.
"Oh! the perversity of human nature! Oh! you degenerate girl! As if I cared for Clem in that way! Have I not from the first set my heart on this real-life romance ending in the only way it could rightfully end?"
A sudden light came into Nattie's face, but it died away in a moment.
"Then you do not care for him? Poor Clem!" she said, in a low voice.
"Poor Clem, indeed!" cried Cyn, pacing the floor excitedly. "I cannot—no, I cannot—believe it of him! He certainly has sagacity enough not to run his head against a beam in broad daylight, even—"
"If Jo had not," she was about to add, but checked herself suddenly. Not for the world would she betray Jo's confidence. What had passed between them to-day should be a secret always, never again to be mentioned—but never forgotten in the friendship and companionship of after years.
"You must be very difficult to suit, dear, if you do not like Clem!" said Nattie, with unconscious significance, after waiting in vain for Cyn to finish her sentence.
"It is not that," replied Cyn, somewhat sadly. "Do you not know I have only one love,—music?"