“I am a year younger than you,” said Florence, “and I have been proposed for before you, Brenda. Michael cares for me; he cares for me for myself alone. He absolutely wants me to be poor, very poor, as poor as a church mouse, he says, in order that he may show to all the world how deeply he loves me. He doesn’t care for me in the very least because he thinks I have money. He wants me to be poor: he told me all about it to-day. He mentioned the subject first at the Arbuthnots’ Christmas party, but he spoke of it again to-day when we were walking home. He looked very, very handsome; and I—I quite think I like him.”
“Oh, you poor little innocent Florence!” said Brenda. “But you don’t know anything about men at all. It was very mean of him to speak to you, very mean of him to take advantage of you. Yes, it was, Flo; I cannot help saying it. It was wrong of him; he ought not to have done it.”
“He did nothing wrong,” said Florence; “he spoke up like a man. I suppose a man can’t help loving a girl.”
“He ought not to have done it like that,” repeated Brenda. “I know I am right: he ought on no account to have done it like that.”
“It is very queer of you to speak to me in that tone, Brenda,” said her sister, “and I must say that I am very much astonished. I cannot understand what you mean. Why should not Michael care for me? He is a gentleman: he is an officer in the King’s army. We know his father; we know his people. I don’t know why you should talk to me like that. I suppose a man will propose to me some day, just as some one will propose to you, darling Brenda; and you will love him with all your heart and soul.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Brenda. “I am not beautiful like you, Flo. But tell me all about it, darling. You startled me very much when you first spoke, and I suppose I did wrong to be a little bit annoyed. It hurts me to think that my only darling sister should care for any one else better than me.”
“But I don’t know that I do,” said Florence; “only of course,” she added, “he was very nice, and he did say so emphatically that he only cared for me for myself.”
“And what did you say to him, Flo?”
“I told him that he had startled me, and that I wanted a month to think it over. He would not give me a month, but he gave me a week. What I feel is this, Brenda: that he must know all about our changed circumstances before I give him my true answer. Then if he comes forward, as indeed I know he will, I shall feel at least assured that he cares for me for myself.”
“And who would not care for you for yourself,” said her sister, putting her arms round the girl’s neck and kissing her with great affection. “Why, aren’t you just the dearest creature in the world? Won’t you make the very sweetest wife? But all the same,” she added, “I don’t know how Mr Reid can marry any one at present, for he can’t be well off. I know the Major has barely enough to live on.”