“We were separated, so long as I was married; but that was but two years,” said Margaret, with a sigh; and here the conversation came to a pause.
Harry was so touched by her sigh and her pause, that he did not know how to show his sympathy. He would have liked to say on the spot, “Let me make it all up to you now;” but he did not feel that this premature declaration would be prudent. And then he asked himself, what did she mean? that the time of her separation from her brother was sad? or that she was sad that it came to an end so soon? With natural instinct, he hoped it might be the former. He was looking at her intently, with interest and sympathy in every line of his face, when she looked up suddenly, as her manner was, and caught him—with so much more in his looks than he ventured to say.
Margaret was half amused, half touched, half flattered; but she did not let the amusement show. She said, gratefully, “You are very kind to take so much interest in a stranger like me.”
“I do not feel as if you were a stranger,” cried Harry eagerly; and then not knowing how to explain this warmth of expression, he added in haste, “you know I have known—we have all known your cousin for years.”
Margaret accepted the explanation with a smile, “You all? You are one of a family too—you have brothers and sisters like Charles and me?”
“Not like you. I have lots of brothers and sisters, too many to think of them in the same way. There is one of my sisters whom I am sure you would like,” said Harry, who had always the fear before his eyes that the talk would flag, and his companion get tired of him—a fear which made him catch wildly at any subject which presented itself.
“Yes?” said Margaret, “tell me her name, and why you think I would like her best.”
From this it will be seen that she too was not displeased to keep up the conversation, nor quite unskilled in the art.
“The tea’s coming,” said little Sibby, running in and taking her seat on her footstool. Perhaps Harry thought he had gone far enough in the revelation of his family, or perhaps only that this was a better subject. He held out his hand and made overtures of friendship to the little girl.
“Come and tell me your name,” he said, “shouldn’t you like to come up with me to the house, and play with my little cousins in the nursery? There are three or four of them, little things. Shouldn’t you like to come with me?”