"I certainly should."

"Couldn't you bring him to the point? It would have been easy enough."

"The gentleman did the asking in those days," Sue laughed. "And wasn't he ever married?"

"No."

"What a pity! I thought that every thing always went right for people like you and Tessa. But I don't see where the perfect gift comes in, do you, Tessa?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid that I don't want such a perfect gift. I couldn't bear it-twenty years."

"Tell me-I can't guess. Did he give you something?"

"No, _he_ did not."

"Didn't he love _you?_"

"No, he did not love me."

"Where is the gift then?"

"My love for him was my perfect gift. It was given by One in whom there is no shadow of turning."

"I am not strong enough to receive such a gift," said Tessa looking troubled.

"Oh, dear me, I hope not. Oh, dear me, horrid! What a story to tell the night before my wedding! All I care about is about _being loved!_ I didn't know that the loving made any difference or did any good! That story is too sorrowful. Gerald would like that."

The long ivory needle moved in and out; the fair face, half a century old, was full of loveliness.

"That is for you to remember all your life, Sue."

"I sha'n't. I shall forget it. I only remember pleasant things."

"I wonder if Fredrika Bremer were as happy as you, Miss Jewett. She says that a gentleman inspired her with a 'pure and warm feeling,' that it was never responded to, and yet it had a powerful influence upon her development."

"Was she _real?_" inquired Sue. "I thought that she only wrote books."

"It takes very real people to write," answered Tessa. "The more real you are, the more you are called to write."

Slipping off the low chair, down to the rug, Sue laid her head in Miss Jewett's lap, the white wool half concealing the braids and curls and frizzes, the thin, excited face was turned toward the fire, the brown eyes, wild and yet timid, were misty with tears.

Miss Jewett and Tessa Wadsworth were the only people in the world who had ever seen this phase of Sue Greyson.

Dr. Lake had never seen her subdued or frightened. At this instant she was both. There were some things that Sue could feel; there were not any that she could understand.

"Sometimes," said Sue, in a hollow whisper, "I'm so afraid, I want to run away; I was afraid I might run away and so I asked Tessa to come to-night."

"My dear!" Miss Jewett's warm lips touched her forehead.

"Oh, it isn't any thing! I like Gerald; I adore him. I wouldn't marry him if I didn't! I am always afraid of a leap into the dark, and I am always jumping into dark places."

"It is a leap for _him_, too, Sue; you seem to forget that," suggested Tessa.

"You always think of him, you never think of me."

"It is a pity for no one to think of him; if I were to be married to-morrow, I should cry all night, out of pity for the hapless bridegroom."

"Tessa, you ridiculous child," exclaimed Miss Jewett.

"In books," Sue went on, still with her face turned from them, "girls choose the one they are to marry out of all the world. Why don't we?"

"We do," said Tessa.

"We don't. We take somebody because he asks us and n.o.body else asks."

"_I_ will not. I do not believe that G.o.d means it so. He chooses that we shall satisfy the best and hungriest part of ourselves, and the best part is the hungriest, and the hungriest the best; we may not have opportunity in one year, or two years, or ten years, but if we wait He will give us the things we most need! He did not give us any longing simply to make us go crying through the universe; the longing is His message making known to us that the good thing _is_. I will not be false to myself, cheating myself by shutting my eyes and saying, 'Ah, _this_ is good! I have found my choice,' when my whole soul protests, knowing that it is a lie. I can wait."

"Oh, Tessa!" laughed Sue. "Doesn't she talk like a book? I never half know what she means when she goes into such hysterics. Do you expect to get all your good things?"

"All _my_ good things! Yes, every single one; it is only a question of time. G.o.d can not forget, nor can He die. I shall not be discouraged until I am sure that He is dead."

"O, Tessa, you are wicked," cried Sue.

"You remind me of something," said Miss Jewett. "'Blessed are all they that wait _for Him_.'"

"I can't wait for my blessings," said Sue; "I want to s.n.a.t.c.h them."

Gently pushing aside Sue's head, Tessa found her work and her needle; she worked silently while Sue laughed and grumbled and Miss Jewett talked, not over Sue's head as Tessa's habit was, but into her heart.

"Sue, I shall lose you in Bible cla.s.s."

"I never answered any questions or studied any lesson, you will not care for my empty place. Gerald is getting awfully good; he reads the Bible and Prayer-book every night; every morning when I go in to fix up his room, I find them on a little table by his bed; I suppose he reads in bed nights. He used to be bad and talk dreadful things when he first came; did you ever hear him, Tessa?"

"Yes."

"But he's awful good now; he thinks that people ought to go to church, and say their prayers; I hope he will keep it up; _I_ will not hinder him. I want to be good, too."

Tessa's needle moved in and out; she did not hear Sue's voice, or see the kneeling, green figure; her eyes were looking upon the face she had looked down into that evening in January, such a little time since; and she was hearing her voice as she heard it in the night. Had she forgotten so soon? Or was it the remembrance that gave her the unrest to-night? Was she conscious without understanding? And had _her_ Ralph Towne done this? After having withdrawn himself from Sue, was he keeping her from seeing the good and the happiness of marriage with Dr. Lake?

Would the thought of him come between her and the contentment that she might have had?

But no, she was putting herself into Sue's position; that would not do; it was Sue's self and not her own self that she must a.n.a.lyze! If she could tell Ralph Towne her fears to-night, his eyes would grow dark and grave, and then he would toss the feeling away with his amused laugh and say, "Sue is not deep enough for that! She did not care for me. Why must you think a romance about her?"

Was she not deep enough for that? Who could tell that?

She listened to Sue's lively talk and tried to believe that his reply would be just; the one most bitter thought of all was, that if she were suffering it was through his selfishness or stupidity. Why must he be so stupid about such things? Had he no heart himself?

Sue was laughing again. "Oh, dear! I must be happy; if I am not I shall be unhappy! It would kill me to be unhappy! I never think of unpleasant things five minutes."

The sound of wheels near the windows, and a call to "Jerry" in a loud, quick voice, brought them all to a startling sense of the present.