"It is better as it is, Fru Beck. Many things happen in life that would not be so easy to bear if we were cast down beforehand."
"Yes; but one could guard one's self," whispered Fru Beck, with a certain bitterness and hardness in her voice.
Elizabeth made no reply, and there was a pause, which seemed to Fru Beck to have broken the thread of the conversation. She deliberated how she should take it up again so as to get at what she wanted to say, and taking Elizabeth's hand with sudden warmth, she said—
"If there is anything your aunt wants, you know, I hope, that she has only to send to me." She would rather have made Elizabeth herself the object of her interest instead of her aunt, but felt that there was much in the relations in which they had stood to one another to make that impossible; but her meaning was just as clear.
"And for yourself, Elizabeth?" she went on, looking searchingly into her eyes, with an expression of deep sympathy. "All is not right with you: I am afraid your marriage has not been a happy one."
These last words brought a sudden flush into Elizabeth's face, and she involuntarily withdrew her hand.
She looked at Fru Beck with an expression of wounded pride, as if it was a subject she declined to discuss.
"That is not the case, Fru Beck," she replied. "I am"—she was going to say "happily," but preferred to say—"not unhappily married." She felt that that sounded rather weak, and added—
"I have never loved, never wished for, any one but him who is now my husband."
"I am overjoyed to hear it, Elizabeth, for I had heard otherwise," said Fru Beck, with some embarrassment—and there was another pause. She felt from Elizabeth's manner and bearing that she had wounded her self-esteem; and this last unlucky speech, she was afraid, had made matters worse.