"IT CAME UPON BOTH OF US AGAINST OUR WILLS."
"Hush, Clare; hush, darling. You must give up sobbing, and let me dry those tears," replied Margery, calmly. "Think, dear. You may determine to run away from Frank; you might even refuse the love he offers; but it would be his to dispose of still, not yours. I am sure he cannot take it back, and if he could, do you suppose I should desire it? My sister, look at me. If ever a thought crossed my mind that Frank Anstruther could be more to me than another, it is gone; and if he—"
"I told him I thought he fell in love with you first, Margery, and he declared he had never said a word about love to you. He never really knew what it meant till he saw me," said Clare.
The words gave Margery a pang, but she did not show it.
"It matters little, dear," she said, "since now you love each other. You offered to give Frank to me. You gave your dear child-self. You came to me long years ago, like an angel gift, as if from Dorothy, and with you returned health and life. We have been very happy, Clare, and now, I trust, you will be happier than ever. You are mine to dispose of, and I give you to Frank, and myself to be his sister, as I have been yours in the past. Have no fears for me, darling. If there were no Clare in the case, Frank Anstruther could never be more than friend or brother to me."
"Miss Clare has got her own way, as usual," said Barbara Molesworth. "She always would have it, by hook or by crook. The tale does not end as one would like; but I suppose it cannot be helped, especially as my own dear lady says she would not have it different for the world. There is one good thing—the cuckoo goes, and the proper nestling stays in the nest. But Miss Margery would not be content till her mother gave a fine portion with Miss Clare. And the captain says, and well he may, that he does not know whether he is most fortunate in his wife or his sister."
Clare and her husband are considered a model couple as regards devotion to each other; but the gallant captain tolerates no hangers-on, and his wife's love of admiration has to be satisfied with what he gives in no stinted measure.
They have a baby-girl—Margery's namesake and god-daughter, and her great pet.
There is one worthier, nobler in himself, as well as in position, than was Frank Anstruther, who is biding his time—one who knows Margery's value; and it is more than likely that before Christmas comes round again, the real young lady of Monks Lea will have followed the example of Clare, and changed her name.