you are marching and countermarching in Virginia?"
"Your duty, of course," said Jack, in a steady voice, which belied a certain little conjecture of Lizzie's. "I think you will find the sun will rise in the east, my dear, just as it did before you were engaged."
"I 'm sure I did n't suppose it would n't," says Lizzie.
"By duty I don't mean anything disagreeable, Liz," pursued the young man. "I hope you 'll take your pleasure, too. I wish you might go to Boston, or even to Leatherborough, for a month or two."
"What for, pray?"
"What for? Why, for the fun of it: to 'go out,' as they say."
"Jack, do you think me capable of going to parties while you are in danger?"
"Why not? Why should I have all the fun?"
"Fun? I 'm sure you 're welcome to it all. As for me, I mean to make a new beginning."
"Of what?"
"Oh, of everything. In the first place, I shall begin to improve my mind. But don't you think it 's horrid for women to be reasonable?"
"Hard, say you?"
"Horrid,—yes, and hard too. But I mean to become so. Oh, girls are such fools, Jack! I mean to learn to like boiled mutton and history and plain sewing, and all that. Yet, when a girl 's engaged, she 's not expected to do anything in particular."
Jack laughed, and said nothing; and Lizzie went on.
"I wonder what your mother will say to the news. I think I know."
"What?"
"She 'll say you 've been very unwise. No, she won't: she never speaks so to you. She 'll say I 've been very dishonest or indelicate, or something of that kind. No, she won't either: she does n't say such things, though I 'm sure she thinks them. I don't know what she 'll say."
"No, I think not, Lizzie, if you indulge in such conjectures. My mother never speaks without thinking. Let us hope that she may think favorably of our plan. Even if she does n't"——
Jack did not finish his sentence, nor did Lizzie urge him. She had a great respect for his hesitations. But in a moment he began again.
"I was going to say this, Lizzie: I think for the present our engagement had better be kept quiet."
Lizzie's heart sank with a sudden disappointment. Imagine the feelings of the damsel in the fairy-tale, whom the disguised enchantress had just empowered to utter diamonds and pearls, should the old beldame have straightway added that for the present mademoiselle had better hold her tongue. Yet the disappointment was brief. I think this enviable young lady would have tripped home talking very hard to herself, and have been not ill pleased to find her little mouth turning into a tightly clasped jewel-casket. Nay, would she not on this occasion have been thankful for a large mouth, a mouth huge and unnatural, stretching from ear to ear? Who wish to cast their pearls before swine? The young lady of the pearls was, after all, but a barnyard miss. Lizzie was too proud of Jack to be vain. It 's well enough to wear our own hearts upon our sleeves; but for those of others, when intrusted to our keeping, I think we had better find a more secluded lodging.
"You see, I think secrecy would leave us much freer," said Jack,—"leave you much freer."
"Oh, Jack, how can you?" cried Lizzie. "Yes, of course; I shall be falling in love with some one else. Freer! Thank you, Sir!"
"Nay, Lizzie, what I 'm saying is really kinder than it sounds. Perhaps you will thank me one of these days."
"Doubtless! I 've already taken a great fancy to George Mackenzie."
"Will you let me enlarge on my suggestion?"
"Oh, certainly! You seem to have your mind quite made up."
"I confess I like to take account of
