“I don't see why,” Maria said, dropping her black skirt over her head.
“You don't see why?”
“No, not if it makes her happy. People have a right to all the happiness they can get, at all ages. I used to think myself that older people were silly to want things like young people, but now I have changed my mind. Dr. Ellridge is a good man, and I dare say your mother will be happier, especially if you are going away.”
“Oh, if she had not been going to get married herself, I should rather have lived at home, after I was married,” said Lily. She looked reflectively at Maria as she fastened her belt. “It's queer,” she said, “but I do believe my feeling so terribly about mother's marrying made George ask me sooner. Of course, he must have meant to ask me some time, or he would not have asked me at all.”
“Of course,” said Maria, getting her hat from the closet-shelf.
“But he walked home with me from the concert last night, and I couldn't help crying, I felt so dreadfully. Then he asked me what the matter was, and I told him, and then he asked me right away. I think maybe he had thought of waiting a little, but that hastened him. Oh, Maria, I am so happy!”
Maria fastened on her hat carefully. “I am very glad, dear,” she said. She turned from the glass, and Lily's face, smiling at her, seemed to give out light like a star. It might not have been the highest affection which the girl, who was one of clear and limpid shadows rather than depths, felt; it might have had its roots in selfish ends; but it fairly glorified her. Maria with a sudden impulse bent over her and kissed her. “I am very glad, dear,” she said, “and now I must run, or I shall be late. My coat is down-stairs.”
“Don't say anything before your aunt Maria, will you?” said Lily, rising and following her.
“No, of course, if you don't want me to.”
“Of course it will be all over town before night,” said Lily, “but someway I would rather your aunt Maria did not hear it from me. She doesn't like me a bit.” Lily said the last in a whisper.