“Do; and when you have done that, there is the other. Two years hence, how you will wonder that there ever was a time when you had not a stitch of work in the house! Wedding clothes last about two years, and then they all wear out together. I wish you joy of the work you will have to do then—if nothing should come between you and it.”
“What should come between us and it?” said Margaret, struck by the tone in which Maria spoke the last words. “Are you following Morris’s lead? Are you going to say,—‘Remember death, Miss Margaret?’”
“Oh, no; but there are other things which happen sometimes besides death. I beg your pardon, Margaret, if I am impertinent—”
“How should you be impertinent? You, the most intimate friend but one that I have in the world! You mean marriage of course; that I may marry within these same two years? Any one may naturally say so, I suppose, to a girl whose sister is just married: and in another person’s case it would seem to me probable enough, but I assure you, Maria, I do not feel as if it was at all likely that I should marry.”
“I quite believe you, Margaret. I have no doubt you feel so, and that you will feel so till—. But, dear, you may one day find yourself feeling very differently without a moment’s warning; and that day may happen within two years. Such things have been known.”
“If there was any one—” said Margaret, simply—“if I had ever seen any one for whom I could fancy myself feeling as Hester did—”
“If there was any one!”—repeated Maria, looking up in some surprise. “My dear Margaret, do you mean to say there is no one?”
“Yes, I do; I think so. I know what you mean, Maria. I understand your face and your voice. But I do think it is very hard that one cannot enjoy a pleasant friendship with anybody without seeing people on the watch for something more. It is so very painful to have such ideas put into one’s mind, to spoil all one’s intercourse—to throw restraint over it—to mix up selfishness with it! It is so wrong to interfere between those who might and would be the most useful and delightful companions to each other, without having a thought which need put constraint between them! Those who so interfere have a great deal to answer for. They do not know what mischief they may be doing—what pain they may be giving while they are gossiping, and making remarks to one another about what they know nothing at all about. I have no patience with such meddling!”
“So I perceive, indeed,” replied Maria, somewhat amused. “But, Margaret, you have been enlarging a good deal on what I said. Not a syllable was spoken about any remarks, any observations between any people; or even about reference to any particular person. I alone must be subject to all this displeasure, and even I did not throw out a single hint about any friend of yours.”
“No, you did not; that is all very true,” said Margaret, blushing: “but neither was I vexed with you;—at least, not so much as with some others. I was hasty.”