Margaret's happy, I do think."

"I could almost wish it had been otherwise," said Will thoughtfully.
"I could have been so glad to comfort her, and cherish her, if she
had been in trouble."

"And why can't you cherish her, even though she is happy?" asked
Mary.

"Oh! I don't know. She seems so much better than I am! And her
voice! When I hear it, and think of the wishes that are in my
heart, it seems as much out of place to ask her to be my wife, as it
would be to ask an angel from heaven."

Mary could not help laughing outright, in spite of her depression,
at the idea of Margaret as an angel; it was so difficult (even to
her dressmaking imagination) to fancy where, and how, the wings
would be fastened to the brown stuff gown, or the blue and yellow
print.

Will laughed, too, a little, out of sympathy with Mary's pretty
merry laugh. Then he said--

"Ay, you may laugh, Mary: it only shows you've never been in
love."

In an instant Mary was carnation colour, and the tears sprang to her
soft grey eyes. She that was suffering so much from the doubts
arising from love! It was unkind of him. He did not notice her
change of look and of complexion. He only noticed that she was