confidence that every one else was bound to be happy too. But Cassandra had her uncle’s commands and anger to vividly in mind to dare any such defiance. She became agitated and said that she must leave the house at once. She was not in a condition to go, had they known where to send her. Katharine’s common sense, which had been in abeyance for the past week or two, still failed her, and she could only ask, “But where’s your luggage?” in the vague belief that to take lodgings depended entirely upon a sufficiency of luggage. Cassandra’s reply “I’ve lost my luggage,” in no way helped her to a conclusion.
“You've lost your luggage,” she repeated. Her eyes rested upon Ralph, with an expression which seemed better fitted to accompany a profound thanksgiving for his existence or some vow of eternal devotion than a question about luggage. Cassandra perceived the look, and saw that it was returned; her eyes filled with tears. She faltered in what she was saying. She began bravely again to discuss the question of a lodging when Katharine, who seemed to have communicated silently with Ralph, and obtained his permission, took her ruby ring from her finger and giving it to Cassandra, said: “I believe it will fit you without any alteration.”
These words would not have been enough to convince Cassandra of what she very much wished to believe had not Ralph taken the bare hand in his and demanded:
“Why don’t you tell us you’re glad?” Cassandra was so glad that the tears ran down her cheeks. The certainty of Katharine’s engagement not only relieved her of a thousand vague fears and self-reproaches, but entirely quenched that spirit of criticism which had lately impaired her belief in Katharine. Her old faith came back to her. She seemed to behold her with that curious intensity which she had lost; as a being who walks just beyond our sphere, so that life in their presence is a heightened
