“Nonsense! It is not at all an uncommon flower. You must be blinded by love, or you would have seen it before.”
“Perhaps I am,” said Margaret, demurely. “Another cup?”
But when the tea was drunk she could wait no longer.
“I have a letter to show you. It is from a gentleman,” she said, lightly.
His brow clouded. “Who is he?”
“Ah! that is what I do not know. But you need not be angry. He has made me a proposal; but he is a very old man.”
They read the letter together. At first John was pleased.
“It is a capital idea,” he said. “It is just what is wanted. Does not everybody say that the great design of the Zenana work in India is to train mothers? And there is not a town of any size in England but has hundreds of mothers such as this man had.”
But as he read further he was not so satisfied.
“What does the fellow mean?” he said. “How perfectly absurd! He asks you to do it. A pretty thing, indeed! You have something else to do with your life, Margaret. I want you.” But he was very pale, and a fear had taken possession of him.