“It is at least beyond his power,” Gilbert replied, “to accuse me of sordid motives. As I said before, Martha, give up your legacy, if need be, but come to me!” “As _I_ said before, Gilbert, the legacy is honestly mine, and I will come to you with it in my hands.” Then they both began to smile, but it was a conflict of purpose which drew them nearer together, in both senses,--an emulation of unselfish love, which was compromised by clasping arms and silent lips. There was a sudden noise in the back part of the house. A shrill voice was heard, exclaiming,--“I will--I will! don't hold me!”--the door burst open, and Sally Fairthorn whirled into the room, with the skirt of her gown torn loose, on one side, from the body. Behind her followed Miss Lavender, in a state of mingled amusement and anger. Sally kissed Martha, then Gilbert, then threw an arm around the neck of each, crying and laughing hysterically: “O Martha! O Gilbert! you'll be married first,--I said it,--but Mark and I must be your bridesmaids; don't laugh, you know what I mean; and Betsy wouldn't have me break in upon you; but I waited half an hour, and then off, up here, she after me, and we're both out o' breath! Did ever, ever such a thing happen!” “You crazy thing!” cried Miss Lavender. “No, such a thing never happened, and wouldn't ha' happened this time, if I'd ha' been a little quicker on my legs; but never mind, it serves me right; you two are to blame, for why need I trouble my head furder about ye? There's cases, they say, where two's company, and three's overmuch; but you may fix it for yourselves next time, and welcome; and there's one bit o' wisdom I've got by it,--foller true-lovyers, and they'll wear your feet off, and then want you to go on the stumps!” “We won't relieve you yet, Betsy,” said Gilbert; “will we, Martha? The good work you've done for us isn't finished.” “Isn't finished. Well, you'll gi' me time to make my will, first. How long d' ye expect me to last, at this rate? Is my bones brass and my flesh locus'-wood? Am I like a tortle, that goes around the fields a hundred years?” “No,” Gilbert answered, “but you shall be like an angel, dressed all in white, with roses in your hair. Sally and Mark, you know, want to be the first bridesmaids”-- Sally interrupted him with a slap, but it was not very violent, and he did not even attempt to dodge it. “Do you hear, Betsy?” said Martha. “It must be as Gilbert says.” “A pretty fool you'd make o' me,” Miss Lavender remarked, screwing up her face to conceal her happy emotion.