"Of course he does!"
"Of-course-he-does?—ah, yes; and by-and-by comes the mamma, and she takes this little hand, and she says, 'Come, Mary!' and then she gives it to him; and then the poor jeune homme, when he comes back, finds not a bird in his poor little nest. Oh, c'est ennuyeux cela!" she said, throwing herself back in the grass till the clover-heads and buttercups closed over her.
"I do assure you, dear Madame!"—
"I do assure you, dear Mary, Virginie knows. So lock up her words in your little heart; you will want them some day."
There was a pause of some moments, while the lady was watching the course of a cricket through the clover. At last, lifting her head, she spoke very gravely,—
"My little cat! it is dreadful to be married to a good man, and want to be good, and want to love him, and yet never like to have him take your hand, and be more glad when he is away than when he is at home; and then to think how different it would all be, if it was only somebody else. That will be the way with you, if you let them lead you into this; so don't you do it, mon enfant."
A thought seemed to cross Mary's mind, as she turned to Madame de
Frontignac, and said, earnestly,—
"If a good man were my husband, I would never think of another,—I wouldn't let myself."
"How could you help it, mignonne? Can you stop your thinking?"
Mary said, after a moment's blush,—