Warwick whispered to that impetuous heart of his, "Be still, we have ventured far enough."
Prue spoke first, very much disturbed by having her prejudices and opinions opposed, and very anxious to prove herself in the right.
"Mark and Geoffrey look as if they agreed with Mr. Warwick in his—excuse me if I say, dangerous ideas; but I fancy the personal application of them would change their minds. Now, Mark, just look at it; suppose some one of Jessie's lovers should discover an affinity for her, and she for him, what would you do?"
"Shoot him or myself, or all three, and make a neat little tragedy of it."
"There is no getting a serious answer from you, and I wonder I ever try. Geoffrey, I put the case to you; if Sylvia should find she adored Julian Haize, who fell sick when she was married, you know, and should inform you of that agreeable fact some fine day, should you think it quite reasonable and right to say, 'Go, my dear, I'm very sorry, but it can't be helped."
The way in which Prue put the case made it impossible for her hearers not to laugh. But Sylvia held her breath while waiting for her husband's answer. He was standing behind her chair, and spoke with the smile still on his lips, too confident to harbor even a passing fancy.
"Perhaps I ought to be generous enough to do so, but not being a Jaques, with a convenient glacier to help me out of the predicament, I am afraid I should be hard to manage. I love but few, and those few are my world; so do not try me too hardly, Sylvia."
"I shall do my best, Geoffrey."
She dropped her shuttle as she spoke, and stooping to
