"Surely, Medoline, you have not fallen in love with him? I should be so sorry, for he is not a marrying man."
"No, indeed," I cried, indignantly; "but——" And then I stopped; for what right had I to tell his secret?
"Oh, Mrs. Flaxman, is it not dreadful to be young? Men are such a trouble."
"Why, my child, what is the matter? You act so strangely I do not understand you."
"No? Well, I cannot explain. But won't you ask Mr. Winthrop, please, if I must keep this book?"
"Why, certainly you must keep it. It would be rude to return Mr. Bovyer's gift."
"But you will ask?"
"Oh, yes, if you insist; but he will only smile, and say it is one of Medoline's oddities."
I went to my room. But the traces of my tears must be removed, and the dinner-bell was already ringing. However, at the risk of being late, I broke the seal of my letter. I was getting terrified lest it might be another proposal of marriage from some unexpected quarter; for, I reflected, when misfortunes begin to come they generally travel in crowds; but this was not a love-letter. It read:
"Dear Miss Selwyn:—I have been informed of your kindness of heart and sympathy for all who are in distress, and therefore am emboldened to come to you for help. If you would call on me to-morrow, at 3 P. M., at Rose Cottage, Linden Lane, you would confer a lasting favor on a sorrowing sister. I am yours, very respectfully,