Marcella went up to her quickly and kissed her, then she said, still
holding her--

"I know you think I ought to be very happy, Mary!"

"I should think I do!" said Mary, with astonished emphasis, when the
voice paused--"I should think I do!"

"I _am_ happy--and I want to make him happy. But there are so many
things, so many different aims and motives, that complicate life, that
puzzle one. One doesn't know how much to give of one's self, to each--"

She stood with her hand on Mary's shoulder, looking away towards the
window and the snowy garden, her brow frowning and distressed.

"Well, I don't understand," said Mary, after a pause. "As I said before,
it seems to me so plain and easy--to be in love, and give one's self
_all_--to that. But you are so much cleverer than I, Marcella, you know
so much more. That makes the difference. I can't be like you. Perhaps I
don't want to be!"--and she laughed. "But I can admire you and love you,
and think about you. There, now, tell me what you are going to wear?"

"White satin, and Mr. Raeburn wants me to wear some pearls he is going
to give me, some old pearls of his mother's. I believe I shall find them
at Mellor when I get back."

There was little girlish pleasure in the tone. It was as though Marcella
thought her friend would be more interested in her bit of news than she
was herself, and was handing it on to her to please her.

"Isn't there a superstition against doing that--before you're married?"
said Mary, doubtfully.

"As if I should mind if there was! But I don't believe there is, or Miss
Raeburn would have heard of it. She's a mass of such things. Well! I
hope I shall behave myself to please her at this function. There are
not many things I do to her satisfaction; it's a mercy we're not going
to live with her. Lord Maxwell is a dear; but she and I would never get
on. Every way of thinking she has, rubs me up the wrong way; and as for
her view of me, I am just a tare sown among her wheat. Perhaps she is
right enough!"

Marcella leant her cheek pensively on one hand, and with the other
played with the things on the mantelpiece.

Mary looked at her, and then half smiled, half sighed.

"I think it is a very good thing you are to be married soon," she said,
with her little air of wisdom, which offended nobody. "Then you'll know
your own mind. When is it to be?"

"The end of February--after the election."

"Two months," mused Mary.

"Time enough to throw it al