Edith Stanhope had reached the age of twenty-one, and still "in maiden meditation fancy free." Her life was an undisturbed and peaceful dream—her days an enjoyable round of simple domestic pleasure, broken in upon now and then by a few of the young schoolmates or companions of her childhood.
How keenly Marguerite then felt the difference of their respective positions as she glanced up from the newspaper and saw the real happiness that shone so steadily upon the girl's countenance, while she, wearied with the gaieties of life, was yearning—oh! so longingly—for the real domestic happiness that she must never realize.
"Marguerite Verne, am I to attribute that gaze to fond admiration or pertinent curiosity?" cried Edith, going up to her friend and playfully shaking her by the shoulders.
"To neither, Edith," said Marguerite, almost sadly, "but to a worse trait in my character—to jealousy," and the short sigh fell faintly upon Edith's quick and acute ear.
"To jealousy, you minx," cried the latter, who had a habit of repeating the speaker's words, which, in many cases, gave more effect to her arguments.
"To jealousy, indeed. Is it because I have the audacity to address your countryman, 'whose way of life is fallen into the sere, and yellow leaf'," replied she, her eyes sparkling with animation and keen enjoyment.
"Thank you for the quotation, Edith," said Marguerite, running her small, delicate fingers through the meshes of her friend's golden-brown hair.
The reply was interrupted by an exclamation of the New Brunswicker. "Miss Verne I presume you have read both editorials. Is it not amusing how each goes for the other."
"Yes, Mr. Metcalfe, but I must confess that I am somewhat like a lady whom I once heard say, 'Well, dear me, I think everything in the Telegraph is all gospel until I take up the Sun and it upsets every speck of belief as fast as it went up. Dear me, I wish I knew which side was genuine, for both cannot be truth.'"
A general laugh followed and Edith Stanhope exclaimed, "I think that your friend must have been on the fence, Marguerite."