"But that's so strange, Margaret. It's so strange that you should
be different from everybody else. I often wonder at it, Margaret;
for I know none of the other girls but love to be where there's a
fiddle, and where there's pleasant company. It's so pleasant to be
where everybody's pleased; and then, Margaret, where one can talk
so well as you, and of so many subjects, it's a greater wonder
still that you should not like to be among the rest."
"I do not, however, William," was the answer in more softened
tones. There was something in this speech of her lover, that found
its way through the only accessible avenues of her nature. It was
a truth, which she often repeated to herself with congratulatory
pride, that she had few feelings or desires in common with the
crowd.
"It is my misfortune," she continued, "to care very little for
the pastimes you speak of; and as for the company, I've no doubt
it will be very pleasant for those who go, but to me it will
afford very little pleasure. Your mother must therefore excuse me,
William:--I should be a very dull person among the rest.
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