WYLDER'S HAJVD.
T8
"I think, Rachel, you have a lover," she said.
"Only a bachelor, I'm afraid, as my poor Margery calls
the young gentleman who takes her out for a walk on a
Sunday, and I fear means nothing more."
"This is the second time I've found Chelford talking
to you, Rachel, at the door of your pretty little gar-
den."
Rachel laughed.
"Suppose, some fine day, he should put his hand over
the paling, and take yours, and make you a speech."
"You romantic darling," she said, "don't you know
that peers and princes have quite given over marrying
simple maidens of low estate for love and liking, and un-
derstand match-making better than you or I; though I
could give a tolerable account of myself, after the manner
of the white cat in the story, which I think is a pattern
of frankness and modest dignity, I'd say with a courtesy
— ' Think not, prince, that I have always been a cat, and
that my birth is obscure; my father was king of six
kingdoms. and loved my mother tenderly,' and so forth."
"Rachel, I like you," interrupted the dark beauty, fix-
ing her large eyes, from which not light, but, as it were, a
rich shadow fell softly on her companion. It was the first
time she had made any such confession. Rachel returned
her look as frankly, with an amused smile, and then said,
with a comic little toss of her head —
"Well, Dorcas, I don't see why you should not, though
I don't know why you say so."
"You're not like other people; you don't complain, and
you're not bitter, although you have had great misfortunes,
my poor Rachel."
There be ladies, young and old, who, the moment they
are pified, though never so cheerful before, will forthwith
dissolve in tears. But that was not Rachel's way; she
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