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“It was easy to see that she was not affected as she should have been by what I said. In fact, she looked as though she wanted to laugh; but her respect for me prevented that.

“‘I do not see,’ she said, ‘how I have wrecked your life.’

“‘That may be so,’ I answered, ‘but it is because you do not want to see it. I should think that even you would admit that it is enough to drive me crazy to see any woman waiting and longing for the day which would give her that which I prize more than anything else in the world. And to think what you are aspiring to! None of the old left-overs that other people have offered to you, but my Bernard, the very prince of men! I do not wonder you were so quick to promise me you would take him!’

“She jumped up, and I thought she was going away; but she did not go, and turned again toward me, and remarked, just as coolly as anybody could speak: ‘Well, I do not wonder, either. Your Bernard is a most estimable man, and if nothing should happen in any way or at any time to interfere in the case of his surviving you I shall be happy to marry him. I think I would make him a very good wife.’

“At this I sprang to my feet, and I am sure my eyes and cheeks were blazing. ‘Do you mean,’ I cried, ‘that you would make him a better wife than I do?’

“‘That is a question,’ she said, ‘that is not easy to answer, and needs a good deal of consideration.’ And she spoke with as much deliberation as if she were trying to decide whether it would be better to cover a floor with matting or carpet. ‘For one thing, I do not believe I would nag him.’

“‘Nag!’ I exclaimed. ‘What do you mean by that? Do you suppose I nag him?’

“‘I do not know anything about it,’ she answered, ‘except what you told me yourself; and what you said was my reason for agreeing so quickly to your proposition.’

“‘Nag!’ I cried. But then I stopped. I thought it would be better to wait until I could think over what I had said to her before I pursued this subject. ‘But I can tell you one thing,’ I continued, ‘and that is that you need not have any hopes in the direction of my husband. I am going to tell him everything just as soon as he comes home, even about you and George; and I am going to make him promise that, no matter what happens, he will never marry you.’

“I think these words made some impression on her, for she answered very quickly: ‘I am not sure that it will be wise to tell him everything; but if you are determined to do so, I must insist that you will tell him something more; and that is that I am engaged to be married, and have been for nearly a year.’

“‘And you have been deceiving all these anxious wives?’ I cried.

“‘I never made promises to any one but to you,’ she answered; ‘and I would not have done that if I had not liked you so much.’

“‘You have a funny way of liking,’ I remarked.

“She merely smiled, and went on: ‘And I should not have told you of my engagement if I had not thought it would be safer to do so, considering the story you are going to tell your husband.’

“‘And it is because I consider it safer that I am going to tell him that story,’ I replied.

* * * * *

“That afternoon, as soon as I was alone with Bernard,–I did not give him any time to show me any of his common-acquaintance coolness,–I told him the whole thing from beginning to end. He listened so earnestly that one might have thought he was in church; but when I came to the part about his boarding with George and Miss Temple he could not help laughing. He excused himself, however, and told me to go on. He looked very happy when I had told him my story, and no one would have supposed that he had ever assumed the air of a mere common acquaintance.

“‘You are such a good little wife!’ he exclaimed. ‘And you are always trying to do things to make me happy. But you must not take so much labor and anxiety upon yourself. I want to help you in every way that I can, and in such a case you ought to let me do it.’

“‘But how could you help me in the trouble I have been telling you about?’ I asked.

“‘Easily enough,’ he answered. ‘Now, if you had taken me into your confidence, I would have told you that I consider Miss Temple too tall a woman for my fancy.’

“‘She is,’ I said. ‘I did not think so at first, but I can see it plainly now.’

“‘Then, again, she is too practical-minded.’

“‘Entirely too much so,’ I agreed.

“‘And in other respects she is not up to my standard,’ continued Bernard. ‘So I think, Rosa, that if you should ever take up such a scheme again we should act together. I am sure my opinion would be of great advantage to you in helping you to select some one who should take up the work of making me happy–‘

“‘You are perfectly horrid!’ I exclaimed; and I stopped his mouth.

“That was the end of the matter; but I never learned to like Margaret Temple. To be sure, I thought seriously of some things she had said; but then, people can consider things people say without liking the people who say them. I pity her husband.”

Just then came the summons to luncheon, and this story was not commented upon.