“Possibly not. But I am not going yet. And no plan that is meant to separate you and me shall prosper,” said Rose, with more heat than the occasion seemed to call for, as though the subject had been previously discussed in a manner not to her liking. Graeme looked grave and was silent a moment, then she said,—
“I remember saying almost these very words before we went to Merleville, to Emily’s wedding. But you know how differently it turned out for you and me. We will keep together while we can, dear, but we must not set our hearts upon it, or upon any other earthly good, as though we knew best what is for our own happiness.”
“Well, I suppose that is the right way to look at it. But I am to be your first consideration this winter, you must remember, and you are to be mine.”
“Graeme,” said Fanny, earnestly, “I don’t think Rose is spoiled in the least.”
Fanny made malapropos speeches sometimes still, but they were never unkindly meant now, and she looked with very loving eyes from one sister to the other.
“I hope you did not think Hilda was going to spoil me. Did you?” said Rose, laughing.
“No, not Hilda; and it was not I who thought so, nor Graeme. But Harry said you were admired more than was good for you, perhaps, and—”
Rose shrugged her shoulders.
“Oh! Harry is too wise for anything. I had a word or two with him on that subject myself, the last time he was out at Norman’s. You must not mind what Harry says about me, Fanny, dear.”
“But, Rose, you are not to think that Harry said anything that was not nice. It was one night when Mr Millar was here, and there was something said about Mr Green. And he thought—one of them thought that you—that he—I have forgotten what was said. What was it, Graeme? You were here as well as I.”