itself to her in a Megilp light. The Megilp "sense of duty,"
therefore, came up as she unhesitatingly assented to Uncle Oldways'
proposal and request. He wanted Desire; of course she could not say
a word; she owed him something, which she was glad she could so make
up; and secretly there whispered in her mind the suggestion which
Mrs. Megilp, on the other side of the water, spoke right out.

"If he wants her, he must mean something by her. He is an old man;
he might not live to give her back into her mother's keeping; what
would she do there, in that old house of his, if he should die,
unless--he _does_ mean something? He has taken a fancy to her; she
is odd, as he is; and he isn't so queer after all, but that his
crotchets have a good, straightforward sense of justice in them.
Uncle Titus knows what he is about; and what's more, just what he
ought to be about. It is a good thing to have Desire provided for;
she is uncomfortable and full of notions, and she isn't likely ever
to be married."

So Desire was given up, easily, she could not help feeling; but she
knew she had been a puzzle and a vexation to her mother, and that
Mrs. Ledwith had never had the least idea what to do with her; least
of all had she now, what she should do with her abroad.

"It was so much better for her that Uncle Titus had taken her home."
With these last words Mrs. Ledwith reassured herself and cheered her
child.

Perhaps it would have been the same--it came into Desire's head,
that would conceive strange things--if the angels had taken her.