"But, my dear, I don't know why there should be any sorrow about it. Why should not everything prove to be perfectly happy?"
"Do you think so, Nola?"
She looked up to Nola with an expression of childlike anxiety.
"Why should it not be so, Lucy? If I were a man, I should be very much in love with you, dear. You are the girl that men ought to be in love with."
There was a certain tone of coldness or constraint in Minola's voice which could not escape even Lucy's observation.
"You think me weak and foolish, I know very well, Nola, because I have made such a confession as this. For all your kindness and your good heart, I know that you despise any girl who allows herself to fall in love with a man. You don't care about men, and you think we ought to have more dignity, and not to prostrate ourselves before them; and you are quite right. Only some of us can't help it."
"No," said Minola sadly; "I suppose not."
"There! You look all manner of contempt at me. I should like to have you painted as the Queen of the Amazons—you would look splendid. But I may trust to your friendly heart and your sympathy all the same, I know. You will pity us weaker girls, and you won't be too hard on us. I want you to help me."
"Can I help you, Lucy? Shall I ask Mr. Heron if he is in love with you? I will if you like."
"Oh, Nola, what nonsense! That only shows how ridiculous you think me. No, I only mean that you should give me your sympathy, and let me talk to you. And—you observe things so well—just to use your eyes for my sake. Oh, there is so much a friend may do! And he thinks so much of you, and always talks to you so freely."