“Nothing,” replied Dora pleasantly. “Especially as you know all about it.”
“Will you never change your mind?” persuasively.
“No, I am not the sort of person to change my mind.”
There was a little pause, and again Sister Cecilia whispered to the evening shades.
“I cannot help hoping that some day it may be different. It is not as if there were any one else—?”
Silence again.
“I dare say,” added Sister Cecilia, after waiting in vain for an answer to her implied question, “that I am wrong, but I cannot help being in favour of a little more candour, a little mutual confidence.”
“I cannot help feeling,” replied Dora quietly, “that we are all best employed when we mind our own business.”
“Yes, dear, I know. But it is very hard to stand idly by and see young people make mistakes which can only bring them sorrow. I want to tell you to think very deeply before you elect to lead the life of a single woman. It is a life full of temptation to idleness and self-indulgence. There are many single women who, I am really afraid, are quite useless in the world. They only gossip and pry into their neighbours' affairs and make mischief. It is because they have nothing to do. I have known several women like that, and I cannot help thinking that they would have been happier if they had married. Perhaps they did not have the chance. One does not understand these things.”
Sister Cecilia cast her eyes upwards toward the tree-tops to see if perchance the explanation was written there.