“One can’t do two things at once,” she interrupted, laughing a little. “Nowadays, marriage is looked upon as a vocation, remember, and one throws one’s whole heart and soul into such a dignified thing as a vocation! At least, one should.” She turned to Carey, and raised her eyes to his, still laughing. She was a little flushed, and her eyes were very large and bright.
He did not reply for a moment. “Well! some of my prophecy has been fulfilled at any rate, hasn’t it?”
“Oh, yes! I’ve had my share of the fruit of the Tree. There’s so much of it—one grows a little tired of fruit, don’t you think so?”
“You think the blossoms are best, after all? Ah, but suppose I had tried to persuade you of that, five years ago?”
“I should have turned and rent you, of course,” she said, smiling. “But then no children believe they wouldn’t like fruit if they could get it. You must let them make themselves ill with it before they believe that. Oh, but some of it was very nice,” she added hastily, with a change of voice.
“My friends the Mansfields came home about nine months after you went, and they were delighted about my little success, of course. I was invited to a great many different houses. Oh! I had a lovely time. Everything was fresh and new and interesting, you understand? I met my husband at one of these houses,” she added. “We have been married three years.”
“Mansfield?—my friend Trelawney is engaged to Professor Mansfield’s daughter. Is—”
“Is Mr. Trelawney a friend of yours?” Bridget said, animatedly. “How strange! Yes, he and Helen are engaged. She is a great friend of mine. There she is!” She pointed out a tall girl in black, with coils of soft fair hair. “But of course Mr. Trelawney has introduced you?”
“Yes. I’ve been talking to Miss Mansfield. She is charming.”
Bridget smiled at him approvingly. She was very much like the young girl of five years ago as she did so; the slight, almost imperceptible hardness in her voice melted, he noticed, when she spoke of her friend.