If" (tightly clinching my hands, and setting my teeth) "I had had any idea of his being the _scoundrel_ that he is--" "But he is not," she interrupts quickly, wincing a little at my words; "indeed he is not! What ill have we heard from him?
If you do not mind" (laying her hand with gentle entreaty on my arm), "I had rather, _far_ rather, that you did not say any thing hard of him! I was always so glad that you and he were such friends--always--and I do not know why--there is no sense in it; but I am glad of it still." "We were _not_ friends," say I, writhing a little; "why do you say so ?" She looks at me with a great and unfeigned astonishment.
"_Not friends!_" she echoes, slowly repeating my words; then, seeing the expression of my face, stops suddenly.
"Are you _sure_," cry I, feverishly snatching her hands and looking with searching anxiety into her face, "that you spoke truth just now ?--that you do not mind much--that you will get over it!--that it will not _kill_ you ?" "_Kill_ me!" she says, with a little sorrowful smile of derision; "no, no! I am not so easily killed." "Are you _sure_ ?" persist I, with a passionate eagerness, still reading her tear-stained face, "that it will not take the taste out of every thing ?--that it will not make you hate all your life ?--it would me." "_Quite_ sure!--certain!" she says, looking back at me with a steady meekness, though her blue eyes brim over; "because God has taken from me _one_ thing--one that I never had any right to expect--should I do well, do you think, to quarrel with all that He has left me ?" I cannot answer; her godly patience is too high a thing for me.
"Even if my life _were_ spoilt," she goes on, after a moment or two, her voice gaining firmness, and her face a pale serenity, "even if it were--but it is _not_--indeed it is not.

In a very little while it will seem to me as good and pleasant and full as ever; but even if it _were_" (looking at me with a lovely confidence in her eyes), "it would be no such very great matter--_this_ life is not every thing!" "Is not it ?" say I, with a doubting shiver.

"Who can tell you that?
who knows ?" "_No one_ has been to blame," she continues, with a gentle persistence.

"I should like you to see that! There has been only a--a--_mistake_"-- (her voice failing a little again), "a mistake that has been corrected in time, and for which no one--_no one_, Nancy, is the worse!".