“Of course, I knew you wouldn’t think me good enough,” she said.
“But,” said Meg simply, “how could I think so? [120] ]I do not know you. What I mean is, marriage with any one till he is older would be ruin to him. Surely you must see the unhappiness it would bring upon you both. In the first place, what could you live upon?”
Miss Jones was silent a minute.
“He could work like other people, I suppose,” she answered; “he said he could, and I wouldn’t mind going on sewing too for a bit.”
“Oh, he would be willing to work, I know,” Meg said; “but what could he do? It is harder in the present state of things for sons of gentlemen to find anything to do than labouring men. And he is not half educated yet. Now, in a few years he will be, I trust, in very different circumstances, and able to support a wife in comfort.”
“I don’t mind being rather poor,” Miss Jones replied; “and I’m not going to give him up just because you don’t think me fine enough for you.”
Meg looked at her steadily. “Of course,” she said, “now I have found it out, there is no possibility of a marriage for two years. My brother is not of age, and my father naturally will forbid it.”
Then she softened again, for the girl’s eyes had an unhappy look in them. “I expect I seem severe to you, Miss Jones; but, indeed, all I am thinking of is my brother’s happiness. If I thought it would [121] ]truly be for his good, I would not say a word. And you—you love him too—won’t you show your love by not standing in his light?”
“You seem to think it’s as easy to give him up as drop your ’andkerchief,” said Miss Jones, in a voice that shook a little. “If you’d a young man, how d’you think you’d feel if any one came to you and said as you couldn’t make him happy because you wasn’t as fine as him?”
“If I had a lover,” Meg said softly, “I would not bring unhappiness upon him for all the world. If I had a lover, and thought my love could only do him harm, I would never see him again.”