"Why do you speak of John's friends from the Temple, Elinor?"
"Mamma! for no reason at all. Why should I? They were the only other men I could think of."
"Elinor, did John ever give you any reason to think——"
"Mamma," cried Elinor again, with double vehemence, her countenance all ablaze, "of course he never did! how could you think such foolish things?"
"Well, my dear," said her mother, "I am very glad he did not; it will prevent any embarrassment between him and you—for I must always believe——"
"Don't, please, oh, don't! it would make me miserable; it would take all my happiness away."
Mrs. Dennistoun said nothing, but she sighed—a very small, infinitesimal sigh—and there was a moment's silence, during which perhaps that sigh pervaded the atmosphere with a sort of breath of what might have been. After a moment she spoke again:
"I hope you have not packed up your ornaments yet, Elinor. You must leave them to the very last, for Mary would like to see that beautiful necklace. What do you think you shall wear on the day?"
"Nothing," said Elinor, promptly. She was about to add, "I have nothing good enough," but paused in time.
"Not my little star? It would look very well, my darling, to fix your veil on. The diamonds are very good, though perhaps a little old-fashioned; you might get them reset. But—your father gave it me like that."