“To Frank Ludlow!” repeated Sarah.
“Yes; you suspected it before, did you not?”
“Not I, indeed,” replied Sarah, so decidedly that Mary saw the surprise was perfect. “I have noticed that he was attentive to you, but I never dreamt of your liking him.”
“And why not?” asked Mary, not without a little mortification.
“Oh! I don’t know,” answered Sarah carelessly. Her manner seemed to imply that she saw nothing in Frank Ludlow to like particularly.
“You are not pleased,” said Mary presently, in a low voice. “I hope you don’t dislike Frank, Sarah?”
“Who! I dislike him?” said Sarah, looking up from her sewing with surprise. “Not at all. I don’t care about him either one way or the other. But that is not the point in question. If you are in love with him, that is enough, provided,” she added with a smile, “you do not require all your friends to be the same.”
Mary smiled faintly as she said, “Oh no!” for there was something in Sarah’s manner that disappointed and chilled her. She made an effort to say something about her long knowledge of his character and principles, to which Sarah replied,
“I dare say he is a very nice young man, Mary,” while she inwardly wondered what Mary could see in him, to think him worth all the sacrifices she must make if she married him.
Mary could say no more. There was something so slighting in the phrase “nice young man,” and it was so evident that Sarah did not think much of him, that her spirits sunk, and she soon after left her friend, more dejected than she had been since her engagement had taken place.