Elma laughed; a delicious little laugh of conscious happiness.
“Yes, yes, it is! Oh, Cornelia, isn’t it wonderful? I can’t believe it! It’s partly your doing, you know, and I love you for that, but doesn’t it seem impossible that he can really care for—me!” She turned her exquisite, flower-like face towards her friend, with an expression of humility as sweet as it was sincere. “He might have had anybody, and he chooses—me! Oh, Cornelia, I never knew that one could live, and be so happy! It seems like a dream.”
“Wake up, then, and get down to facts! I’m crazy to hear all about it. When was it settled?”
“This morning.”
“Only this morning! I calculated it would come off Monday at latest.”
“No, it didn’t. Of course he was very—I mean, I knew—we both understood, but Geoffrey says he couldn’t possibly have spoken plainly while I was a guest under his own roof. It wouldn’t have been the right thing. He was obliged to wait till I got home!”
“My! how mediaeval. I should have thought Geoffrey Greville had more snap to him, than to hang on to such worn-out notions. Fancy letting you go away, and driving down in cold blood next morning! It’s the dullest thing!”
“It’s not dull at all!” contradicted Elma, hotly. “It’s noble, and manly, and self-sacrificing. I love him for it—
“‘I could not love thee, dear, so much
Loved I not honour more!’”
“Shucks!” sniffed Cornelia, scornfully. “I’d as lief have a little less high-falutin’, and a lot more push. I wouldn’t mind if it was his house ten times over, I’d want him to feel he couldn’t wait another five minutes, and settle it off, so’s we could have a good time together. If he let me come away, not knowing if he were in fun or earnest, I’d have led him a pretty dance for his pains. But you’re so meek; I bet you dropped into his mouth like a ripe plum!”