if Tom would only have understood it; but he would not,—would not or did not.
"All right, Sue! All right!" he said, cheerily. "I shall never urge you. One of these days you 'll think it right to marry me. You 'll know when the time comes. All must be clear."
Susan could have cried with vexation. Did he mean to punish her for having gratuitously refused him before he had ever offered himself to her in words? No, surely Tom was too noble for that. Did he expect her to say to him in so many words, "Dear Tom, I am ready to marry you now?" Did she really and heartily want to marry him after all? She was happier when he was with her than when he was away. If a day passed without her seeing him she was restless and ill at ease. She found herself in all her plans and projects leaning on him, including him as inevitably as if they belonged to each other. But was this love? Susan was not wholly sure. Altogether Susan was quite miserable, and none the less so, it must be acknowledged, because Tom seemed so light-hearted, so content, so thoroughly at rest and satisfied with the state of things. Wise fellow! he had reason to be.
"I don't believe he really cares very much for me," said Susan, pettishly, to Bell one day. "If I were to tell him positively to-morrow that I would never marry him, I don't believe that he would mind it much."
"Oh, Sue, how can you say so?" cried Bell
