The girl asked this question in all good faith, looking up at her friend with a radiant countenance. What irony there was in the question for Diana Paget, whose whole existence had been poisoned by the lack of that sterling coin of the realm which seemed such sordid dross in the eyes of Charlotte!
"What do you mean, Charlotte?"
"I mean, that even his worst enemies cannot accuse Valentine of any mercenary feeling. He does not ask me to marry him for the sake of my fortune."
"Does he know your real position?"
"Most fully. And now, Diana, tell me that you will try to like him, for my sake, and that you will be kind, and will speak a good word for me to mamma by-and-by, when I have told her all."
"When do you mean to tell her?"
"Directly—or almost directly. I scarcely know how to set about it. I am sure it has been hard enough to tell you."
"My poor Charlotte! What an ungrateful wretch I must be!"
"My dear Diana, you have no reason to be grateful. I love you very dearly, and I could not live in this house without you. It is I who have reason to be grateful, when I remember how you bear with mamma's fidgety ways, and with Mr. Sheldon's gloomy temper, and all for love of me."
"Yes, Lotta, for love of you," Miss Paget answered, with a sigh; "and I will do more than that for love of you."