'No, and that's one of the things I thought nice in her; for she must have had. She didn't try to make out that he had spoiled her life. She has three other sisters and there is very little money at home. She has tried to make money; she has written little things and painted little things, but her talent is apparently not in that direction. Her father has had a long illness and has lost his place—he was in receipt of a salary in connection with some waterworks—and one of her sisters has lately become a widow, with children and without means. And so as in fact she never has married any one else, whatever opportunities she may have encountered, she appears to have just made up her mind to go out to Mr. Porterfield as the least of her evils. But it isn't very amusing.'
'That only makes it the more honourable. She will go through with it, whatever it costs, rather than disappoint him after he has waited so long. It is true,' I continued, 'that when a woman acts from a sense of honour———'
'Well, when she does?' said Mrs. Nettlepoint, for I hesitated perceptibly.
'It is so extravagant a course that some one has to pay for it.'
'You are very impertinent. We all have to pay for each other, all the while; and for each other's virtues as well as vices.'
'That's precisely why I shall be sorry for Mr. Porterfield when she steps off the ship with her little bill. I mean with her teeth clenched.'
'Her teeth are not in the least clenched. She is in perfect good-humour.'
'Well, we must try and keep her so,' I
