“Finer than Francis’?” said Elsie, who knew her sister’s very great regard for her cousin, and never fancied she could think any man his superior in any point.

“Yes, sunnier than Francis’.”

“But he is not half so clever or so cultivated,” remonstrated Elsie.

“His cleverness lies in a different direction.”

“I think him inferior to Francis in every way,” said Elsie, “and that weighed with me in giving my answer.  You should think your husband the very best person you ever saw.”

“Perhaps when he is your husband you may, but I fancy that a girl who has a good father and brothers, does not at once give a man this preference when he asks for her hand.  As I said before, he is not faultless, but would not life with him be preferable to life as it is for you now?”

“Don’t, Jane; don’t side with my cowardly self.  To marry him, not loving him, as he perhaps deserves to be loved—­not honouring him as I know I should honour my husband—­but merely because I am miserable—­how cruel to him, how base in myself!  I know, besides, that he only pities me.  Oh!  Jane, if it were only life with you I could bear it better, but I am so weary of that workroom at Mrs. Dunn’s, and of seeing people there whom I used to know, and getting a pitying sort of recognition from them.  The very girls in the workroom pity me, and Peggy pities me, and even the children and their grandfather pity me.  Oh!  Jane, Jane, I am tired, tired to death of all this pity.  Nobody ever thought of pitying you in your hardest times; you could hold up your head, and mine seems as if I never could raise it more.  It must have been only pity in Mr. Brandon’s case—­what did he know of me to make him love me?”

“Have you forgotten that you are a very sweet, charming girl, Elsie—­that your eyes are both bright and true—­that your voice is pleasant, both in itself, and for the very pleasant things you can say?  My darling, you must not lose all pride in yourself in this way.  I wish half the offers of marriage that are made were founded on as much respect as Mr. Brandon felt for you.  Though he talked slightingly of your work at Mrs. Dunn’s, do not fancy but that he honours you for doing it.  Besides, though he is not very literary, he may admire your talents.  He meant to please you by speaking about your poems.”

“If he thinks I could be brilliant in society, or do him any credit in that way, he would be sure to be disappointed, and what a terrible thing it must be to disappoint a husband!  It is not so much his deficiencies as my own, that weigh upon me.  And, besides, Jane, I am not well; I really think I am going into a consumption—­the sooner the better, if it were not for you, my dearest—­and to marry any one with such a conviction, would be positively wicked.”