Prin. We are wise girls to work our lovers so,
So, portent-like, would I o'ersway his state
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
"You are not going away on Saturday," said Harriet the next morning to Margaret, who was sitting with a letter in her hand, "do not think it. I have made up my mind that you spend Christmas here."
"Rather hard upon Miss Capel," said Mr. Gage, "considering that you will not be here at Christmas."
"Well, I don't know where I am likely to be, if not here," said Harriet; "I think there is some derangement in that family," she added, indicating Mr. Gage by a movement of her head:—"He is like the man in 'Nicholas Nickleby,' he insists upon marrying people, and I am his present object; it will go off, you know. Your turn will come next, Margaret, my dear."
"You are so provoking, Harriet," said Margaret, trying in vain to look grave.
"But why should you go back to this Mrs. Fitzpatrick?" said Harriet.
"Because she is so lonely, Harriet. I told you she had lost her daughter; and I have already been here a long time."
"But supposing we are both foolish enough to keep in the same mind, and marry on the 18th, I shall want you to be bridesmaid," said Harriet.