“Ah! poor Hetty,” says Theo, looking down at the carpet.
“It would never have done,” says I.
“No—they would not have been happy,” sighs Theo.
“How strange he never should have found out her secret!” I continued.
She looked me full in the face with an odd expression. “Pray, what does that look mean?” I asked.
“Nothing, my dear—nothing! only I am not surprised!” says Theo, blushing.
“What,” I ask, “can there be another?”
“I am sure I never said so, George,” says the lady, hurriedly. “But if Hetty has overcome her childish folly, ought we not all to be glad? Do you gentlemen suppose that you only are to fall in love and grow tired, indeed?”
“What!” I say, with a strange commotion of my mind. “Do you mean to tell me, Theo, that you ever cared for any one but me?”
“Oh, George,” she whimpers, “when I was at school, there was—there was one of the boys of Doctor Backhouse's school, who sate in the loft next to us; and I thought he had lovely eyes, and I was so shocked when I recognised him behind the counter at Mr. Grigg's the mercer's, when I went to buy a cloak for baby, and I wanted to tell you, my dear, and I didn't know how!”