"They write the same things, Walter," said Mary, mildly, and calling him by his Christian name, as she always did, for she linked upon him almost as a brother, and he regarded her as a sister. "They write the same things, only they place them in a different light. Don't you see that?"
Walter was not quite sure that he did. He thought there was only one way of looking at things—such things, at any rate.
Mary Burgess thought there were more ways than one of looking at the same thing. "All this may have happened as your sister has written; and indeed your cousin gives nearly the same account: and yet the different lights in which they place it make all the difference."
"But supposing it to be true, what Elizabeth says, and Sarah lets another man be making love to her and be always hanging about, as she herself says that Tincroft is, what am I to think of it? I am not much of a match for her, I know, poor girl, as things have turned out, though I may be better than nothing, situated as she is," said the manly fellow; brushing a tear away. "But if I thought Sarah was tired of me, or that giving her up would be anyhow better for her, and make her any way happier, why I'd do it, Miss Burgess."
"I believe you would, Walter; but I do not see any reason for your thinking so yet. Read again what she says."
"Yes; but then I must read again what Elizabeth says. What do you say, Ralph?"
Ralph did not like to say exactly what he thought; but at last he blurted out, "I have no notion of a girl's having two strings to her bow in that fashion."
"That is too hard a thing to say, Ralph," interposed his sister. "It is plain that this intimacy is not of your cousin's seeking, Walter; and it is quite as plain that your sister, with the best intentions, no doubt, is attempting to prevent your marrying your cousin. Possibly Sarah may have been a little imprudent in suffering herself to be in that gentleman's company so much; but then you should consider how difficult it is to avoid such mischances, especially as your cousin seems to be left so much alone."
"You are a good angel, Mary," said Walter.
"I am only a poor weak woman, Walter; but I was going on to say that now that person has gone away, the danger, whatever it might have been, has passed away too. Though I don't believe in the danger. Only see how your cousin writes about him."