's_ leading?--the
life you're making him lead?" she went on. "He's unhappy--of course he
didn't tell _me_ why. He's growing hard and bitter, he's ever so much
changed; remember that I have just seen him, only a few days ago. It's
dreadful to have to say that he has changed for the worse, because I
like him so much; but I am afraid he has,--yes, he has. You see he needs
some one--I like him so much."

"Marry him yourself, then, and be the some one," answered Margaret,
sharply. And by a sudden turn in her quick walk she seemed to be again
trying to get rid of her.

"I would, if he would marry me," Garda answered; "yes, even if he should
keep on caring for you just the same, for that doesn't hurt him in my
eyes. I should be content to come after _you_; and if I could have just
a little edge of his love--But he wouldn't look at me, I tell
you--though I tried. He is like you, with him it is once. But you are
the one I am thinking of most, Margaret. For you are fading away, and
it's this stifled love that's killing you; _now_ I understand it. Women
do die of such feelings, you are one of them. Do you think you'll have
any praise when you get to the next world "--here she came
closer--"after killing yourself, and breaking down all the courage of a
man like Evert, like _Evert_--two whole lives wasted--and all for the
sake of an idea?"

Margaret's face had been averted. But now she looked at her. "An idea
which _you_ cannot comprehend," she said. And she turned away again.

"Yes, I know you think me your inferior," Garda answered; "and I
acknowledge that I am your inferior; I am nothing compared with you, I
never was. But I don't care what you say to me, I only want you to be
happier." She waited an instant, then came up behind Margaret, whose
back was towards her, and with a touch that was full of humility, took
hold of a little fold of her skirt. "Listen a moment," she said, holding
it closely, as if that would make Margaret listen more; "I don't believe
Mr. Harold would oppose a suit at all. He couldn't succeed, of course,
no matter what he should do, for it's all against him, but I don't
believe he would even try; he isn't that sort of a man at least,
malicious and petty. If he could be made comfortable here, as he is now?
It's very far away--Gracias-a-Dios; that is, people think so, I find;
they thought so in New York; so he could stay on here as quietly as he
pleased, and it would make no difference to anybody. He coul