"I say there will be," said Mattie, in an equally decisive manner. "Have I lived so long to see it all ended thus? I say it shall be!" cried Mattie, in an excited manner, that surprised even Harriet, who knew Mattie's character so well; "and we shall see, in good time, which is the true prophetess."
"Mattie, you don't know Sidney, after all."
"Tell me the story—I am very anxious."
And with a woman's keen interest in love matters—her own, or anybody else's, as the case might be—Mattie clasped her hands together, and bent forward, all eagerness for Harriet's narrative.
"It's all through your father—that father of yours, who comes upon the scene, and brings misery with him at once!" said Harriet, a little petulantly.
"Hush, Harriet!—remember that he is my father, now!" said Mattie, who had found one more to defend in life, and to live for, "and I am learning to love him, and to understand him better every day."
"Yes—yes—you will forgive me—I am always offending some one with my hasty words. This is how the quarrel came about."
Harriet launched into her story at once; in a torrent of hurried explanations the details were poured forth, and Mattie, in a short while, knew as much as Harriet Wesden, which was not all however, as we, who are behind the scenes of this little drama, are aware.
"Perhaps it serves us right," said Mattie, pluralizing the case after her old fashion; "we kept something back, and Sidney is straightforward in everything, and hates deceit, even innocent deceit like ours, practised for your good name's sake. Did you tell him that?"
"I don't know what I told him," answered Harriet, sadly. "I said nothing—I was found guilty, and there was no answer left me."