“You!” quickly said Mrs. Eastman, smiling and coloring.
Muriel looked at her with a twinkling mouth and a demure face.
“You do not mean to say, mamma,” she replied, “that you would choose Harrington from the crowd of my adorers for my husband.”
“Indeed,” said Mrs. Eastman, with some warmth, “if I had the choosing, Harrington should be your husband to-morrow.”
Muriel now looked at her with an indescribable air of bewitching gaiety.
“To-morrow, mamma? So soon?” she said, jestingly.
Mrs. Eastman looked confused, like one who has been betrayed into saying a foolish thing, and blushing deeply, began to laugh.
“Well,” she replied, with an air of raillery, “the day after to-morrow.”
“The day after to-morrow,” repeated Muriel, her countenance beaming with gracious fun. “Well, my dear mamma, I will reflect upon it, and if I decide to oblige you by marrying Harrington the day after to-morrow, I will let you know.”
Mrs. Eastman laughed at this pleasantry, and thinking Muriel was evading the subject, said no more, but rose from the dinner-table with her. Their relation as mother and daughter also involved, as is not always the case, the relation of courteous friendship, and this was the nearest approach Mrs. Eastman had ever made to penetrate within the veil of any reservation of Muriel’s.