“How?”
“Everything is easy, if one has money,” said Miss Blair, “and I have really a good deal.” She looked thoughtfully at Maria. “Did you really care for that young man?” she asked.
Maria paled. “I thought so,” she said.
“Then you did.”
“It does not make any difference if I did,” said Maria, with a little indignation. She felt as if she were being probed to her heart-strings.
“No, of course it does not,” Miss Blair agreed directly. “If he and your sister have fallen in love, as you say, you have done obviously the only thing to do. We will have the notice in the papers. I don't know quite how I shall arrange it; but I have a fertile brain.”
Maria looked hesitatingly at her. “But it will not be telling the truth,” she said.
“But what did you plan to do, if you told the truth when you came away?” asked Miss Blair with a little impatience.
“I did not really plan anything,” replied Maria helplessly. “I only thought I would go.”
“You are inconsequential,” said Miss Blair. “You cannot start upon a train of sequences in this world unless you go on to the bitter end. Besides, after all, why do you object to lying? I suppose you were brought up to tell the truth, and so was I, and I really think I venerate the truth more than anything else, but sometimes a lie is the highest truth. See here. You are willing to bear all the punishment, even fire and brimstone, and so on, if your sister and this man whom you love, are happy, aren't you?”