"She won't. I'm rather glad of it, for if she did, I should have to sit for melancholy, or an angel, or something I'm not fitted for by education."
"What shall we do about it?" asked Strong. "Things can't go on in this way."
"I think the engagement had better come out," said Catherine. "The longer it is kept private, the more she will doubt whether she ought to marry a clergyman. What do you think about marrying clergymen? Wouldn't it almost be better to marry a painter, or even a professor?"
"That would be playing it too low down," replied Strong gravely. "I would recommend you to look out for a swell. What has become of your admirer, Mr. Van Dam?"
"Gone!" said Catherine sadly. "Mr. Wharton and he went off together.
There is something about me that scares them all off the ranche."
While they were thus improving each other's minds, the door opened and Esther entered. She was pale and her face had no longer the bright look which Wharton had thought so characteristic, but there was no other sign of trouble about her, and she welcomed her cousin as pleasantly as ever, so that he could hardly believe in the stories he had just heard of her distress.
"Good day, Cousin George," she said. "Thank you for coming to cheer up this poor girl. She needs it. Do take her out and amuse her."
"Come out yourself, Esther. You need it more than she does."
"Aunt Sarah is coming at two o'clock to take me to drive," said Esther.
"Catherine hates driving unless she drives herself."
"I thought you hated it too."