"And what if that should not be your fate indeed, Vesta Kirtland: not bearing, and toil, and pain, and all the heart-breaking vicissitudes of woman's life, but some peculiar station?
"So tall and gracious, to go robed costly, to ride splendidly accoutred and attended, to condescend almost to all, to give gracious downward smiles.
"What if they knew the power of wealth and alien rank, for that matter, I held in that miserable, lean, little paw of mine! You should outshine Grace Langham as the sun, Vesty. Some time, if she were wronged and sorrowful, could I point her, delicately, with all forbearance and worship of my own, that way?"
"Be you rebellious?" Unsuccessful in her cheerful attempts with Vesty, Jane Pray had turned to me.
But Vesty resented her companion's question, almost involuntarily turning to me with a quick and awful pity.
(No; I had been lost, dreaming: not that way, surely; not though her heart were moved with the purest pity angels could bestow; not thou, Vesty, above all, sweet one, beautiful one! to a union so unfit and repelling.)
But I had to bring my thoughts back from a long way to answer Miss Fray's question.
"No," I said. "I settled that with God long ago. It is all right between us."
Miss Pray, confused by Vesty's look, blushed painfully.
"Thank you for asking me about it," I said gently.