“Well, then, suppose I say that I shall submit myself in everything to your wishes?”

“Then I should reply, that the husband capable of doing so would experience from me a sentiment little short of contempt.  What, my lord! so soon to abandon your favorite principles!  That is a proof, I fear, that, after all, you place but little value on them.”

“Well, but I know I have not been so good a boy as I ought to have been; I have been naughty now and then; and as I intend to reform, I shall make you my guide and adviser.  I assure you, I am perfectly serious in the reformation.  It shall be on quite an original scale.  I intend to repent, Miss Gourlay; but, then, my repentance won’t be commonplace repentance.  I shall do the thing with an aristocratic feeling—­or, in other words, I shall repent like a man of honor and a gentleman.”

“Like anything but a Christian, my I presume.”

“Just so; I must be original or die.  I will give up everything; for, after all.  Miss Gourlay, what is there more melancholy than the vanity of life—­unless, indeed, it be the beauty of holiness—­ahem!  All flesh—­no—­I repeated that sweet text before.  He that marrieth doth well; but he that marrieth not doth better.  Sufficient unto the day—­No, hang it, I think I misquoted it.  I believe it runs correctly—­He that giveth ’way, does well; but he that giveth not way, does better:  then, I believe, comes in, Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.  What beautiful and appropriate texts are to be found in Scripture, Miss Gourlay!  By the way, the man that wrote it was a shrewd fellow and a profound thinker.  The only pity is, that the work’s anonymous.”

Lucy rose, absolutely sickened, and said, “My lord, excuse me.  The object of our interview has been accomplished, and as I am far from well, you will permit me to withdraw.  In the meantime, pray make whatever arrangements and hold, whatever interviews may be necessary in this miserable and wretched business; but henceforth they must be with my father.”

“You are surely not going, Miss Gourlay?”

She replied not, but turning round, seemed to reflect for a moment, after which she spoke as follows: 

“I cannot bring myself to think, my lord, after the unusual opinions you have expressed, that you have been for one moment serious in the conversation which has taken place between us.  Their strangeness and eccentricity forbid me to suppose this; and if I did not think that it is so, and that, perhaps, you are making an experiment upon my temper and judgment, for some purpose at present inconceivable; and if I did not think, besides, notwithstanding these opinions, that you may possess sufficient sense and feeling to perceive the truth and object of what I am about to say, I would not remain one moment longer in your society.  I request, therefore, that you will be serious for a little, and hear me with attention, and, what is more, if you can, with sympathy.