always seems so like a boy, and you are more womanly for your
age than any girl I know, so I never thought of your caring for him
in that way. I knew you were very good to him, you are to every
one, my precious; and I knew that he was fond of you as he is of
me, fonder if anything, because he thinks you are perfect; but still I
never dreamed of his loving you as more than a dear friend.”
“He does n’t,” sighed Polly.
“Well, he ought; and if I could get hold of him, he should!”
Polly clutched Fan at that, and held her tight, saying sternly, “If
you ever breathe a word, drop a hint, look a look that will tell him
or any one else about me, I ‘ll yes, as sure as my name is Mary
Milton I ‘ll proclaim from the housetops that you like Ar ” Polly
got no further, for Fan’s hand was on her mouth, and Fan’s alarmed
voice vehemently protested, “I won’t! I promise solemnly I ‘ll
never say a word to a mortal creature. Don’t be so fierce, Polly;
you quite frighten me.”
“It ‘s bad enough to love some one who don’t love you, but to have
them told of it is perfectly awful. It makes me wild just to think of
it. Oh, Fan, I ‘m getting so ill-tempered and envious and wicked, I
don’t know what will happen to me.”
“I ‘m not afraid for you, my dear, and I do believe things will go
right, because you are so good to every one. How Tom could help
adoring you I don’t see. I know he would if he had stayed at home
longer after he got rid of Trix. It would be the making of him; but
though he is my brother, I don’t think he ‘s good enough for you,
Polly, and I don’t quite see how you can care for him so much,
when you might have had a person so infinitely superior.”
“I don’t want a ‘superior’ person; he ‘d tire me if he was like A. S.
Besides, I do think Tom is superior to him in many things. Well,
you need n’t stare; I know he is, or will be. He ‘s so different, and
very young, and has lots of faults, I know, but I like him all the
better for it, and he ‘s honest and brave, and has got a big, warm
heart, and I ‘d rather have him care for me than the wisest, best,
most accomplished man in the world, simply because I love him!”
If Tom could only have seen Polly’s face when she said that! It was
so tender, earnest, and defiant, that Fanny forgot the defence of her
own lover in admiration of Polly’s loyalty to hers; for this faithful,
all absorbing love was a new revelation to Fanny, who was used to
hearing her friends boast of two or three lovers a year, and
calculate their respective values, with almost as much coolness as
the young men discussed the fortunes of the girls they wished for,
but “could not afford to marry.” She had thought her love for
Sydney very romantic, because she did not really care whether he
was rich or poor, though she never dared to say so, even to Polly,
for fear of being laughed at. She began to see now what true love
was, and to feel that the sentiment which she could not conquer
was a treasure to be accepted with reverence, and cherished with
devotion.
“I don’t know when I began to love Tom, but I found out that I did
last winter, and was as much surprised as you are,” continued
Polly, as if glad to unburden her heart. “I did n’t approve of him at
all. I thought he was extravagant, reckless, and dandified. I was
very much disappointed when he chose Trix, and the more I
thought and saw of it, the worse I felt, for Tom was too good for
her, and I hated to see her do so little for him, when she might
have done so much; because he is one of the men who can be led