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My Betsy wouldn't if she had your
chance--I can tell you that much, my lady."
I did not speak. There was another bang or two of the flat-iron, and
then,
"Besides, love will come. Of course it will. It will come in time. If
you don't exactly love your husband when you marry him you'll love him
later on. A wife ought to teach herself to love her husband. I know I
had to, and if. . . ."
"But if she can't, Auntie?"
"Then she ought to be ashamed of herself, and say nothing about it."
It was useless to say more, so I rose to go.
"Yes, go," said Aunt Bridget. "I'm so bothered with other people's
business that my head's all through-others. And, Mary O'Neill," she
said, looking after me as I passed through the door, "for mercy's sake
do brighten up a hit, and don't look as if marrying a husband was like
taking a dose of jalap. It isn't as bad as that, anyway."
It served me right. I should have known better. My aunt and I spoke
different languages; we stood on different ground.
Returning to my room I found a letter from Father Dan.


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