"Bah, Elinor! That's the talk of a woman who seeks excuse for yielding. Your will is as strong as his; use it!"
Elinor's lips shut in a proud silence. There was something in Margaret Brent's manner which did not invite, much as it justified, self-revelation. Few make confidences to those who never make mistakes. Elinor made a move as if to rise; but Margaret laid her hand upon her arm. "Cousin," said the older woman, "I have heard thy story; now listen to mine. I loved a man once—"
Elinor started.
"Ah, thou didst never think I had known what it was to love?"
"He—he was a lucky man," stammered Elinor, in surprise.
"He might have been a lucky man, though perchance it behooves not me to say it; yet I verily believe I could have made him happy, but that he was of a jealous temper—"
Elinor, who had a blessed gift for silence, used it now.
"Yes," Margaret continued; "he was jealous by nature, and therefore lent a ready ear when one dropped poison in it."
"He doubted thee?"