“I am not vexed, Janet,” said she. “And who could I trust if I doubted you?”
“And you are not to think that I am meaning any disrespect to your new sister, if I say it is no wonder that I dinna find you quite content here. And when I think of the home that your mother made so happy, I canna but wish to see you in a home of your own.”
“But happiness is not the only thing to be desired in this world,” Graeme forced herself to say.
“No, love, nor the chief thing—that is true,” said Mrs Snow.
“And even if it were,” continued Graeme, “there is more than one way to look for happiness. It seems to me the chances of happiness are not so unequal in single and married-life as is generally supposed.”
“You mayna be the best judge of that,” said Mrs Snow, gravely.
“No, I suppose not,” said Graeme, with a laugh. “But I have no patience with the nonsense that is talked about old maids. Why! it seems to be thought if a woman reaches thirty, still single, she has failed in life, she has missed the end of her creation, as it were; and by and by people begin to look upon her as an object of pity, not to say of contempt. In this very room I have heard shallow men and women speak in that way of some who are doing a worthy work for God and man in the world.”
“My dear, it is the way with shallow men and women to put things in the wrong places. Why should you be surprised at that?”
“But, Janet, more do it than these people. Don’t you mind, the other day, when Mrs Grove was repeating that absurd story about Miss Lester, and I said to her that I did not believe Miss Lester would marry the best man on the face of the earth, you said in a way that turned the laugh against me, that you doubted the best man on the face of the earth wasna in her offer.”
“But, Miss Graeme, I meant no reflection on your friend, though I said that. I saw by the shining of your eyes, and the colour on your cheek, that you were in earnest, and I thought it a pity to waste good earnest words on yon shallow woman.”