"It is ill luck—his opinions!" cried Rose, laying her hand upon her sister's.
"Opinions are not 'luck,'" said Catharine, with a rather cold smile.
"You mean we are responsible for them? Perhaps we are, if we are responsible for anything—which I sometimes doubt. But you like him—personally?" The tone was almost pleading.
"I think he is a good man."
"And if—if—they do fall in love—what are we all to do?"
Rose looked half whimsically—half entreatingly at her sister.
"Wait till the case arises," said Catharine, rather sharply. "And please don't interfere. You are too fond of match-making, Rose!"
"I am—I just ache to be at it, all the time. But I wouldn't do anything that would be a grief to you."
Catharine was silent a moment. Then she said in a tone that went to the listener's heart:
"Whatever happened—will be God's will."