“Why, Hartley!  You have let some prejudice come in to warp your estimation.”

“No.  I have mixed some with men, and, though my opportunity for observation has not been large, I have met two or three of your Major Willards.  They are polished and attractive on the surface, but unprincipled and corrupt.”

“I cannot believe this of Major Willard,” said Irene.

“It might be safer for you to believe it,” replied Hartley.

“Safer!  I don’t understand you!  You talk in riddles?  How safer?”

Irene showed some irritation.

“Safer as to your good name,” replied her husband.

“My good name is in my own keeping” said the young wife, proudly.

“Then, for Heaven’s sake, remain its safe custodian,” replied Emerson.  “Don’t let even the shadow of a man like Major Willard fall upon it.”

“I am sorry to see you so prejudiced,” said Irene, coldly; “and sorry, still further, that you have so poor an opinion of your wife.”

“You misapprehend me,” returned Hartley.  “I am neither prejudiced nor suspicious.  But seeing danger in your way, as a prudent man I lift a voice of warning.  I am out in the world more than you are, and see more of its worst side.  My profession naturally opens to me doors of observation that are shut to many.  I see the inside of character, where others look only upon the fair outside.”

“And so learn to be suspicious of everybody,” said Irene.

“No; only to read indices that to many others are unintelligible.”

“I must learn to read them also.”

“It would be well if your sex and place in the world gave the right opportunity,” replied Hartley.

“Truly said.  And that touches the main question.  Women, immured as they now are, and never suffered to go out into the world unless guarded by husband, brother or discreet managing friend, will continue as weak and undiscriminating as the great mass of them now are.  But, so far as I am concerned, this system is destined to change.  I must be permitted a larger liberty, and opportunities for independent observation.  I wish to read character for myself, and make up my own mind in regard to the people I meet.”

“I am only sorry,” rejoined her husband, “that your first effort at reading character and making up independent opinions in regard to men and principles had not found scope in another direction.  I am afraid that, in trying to get close enough to the people you meet at Mrs. Talbot’s for accurate observation, you will draw so near to dangerous fires as to scorch your garments.”

“Complimentary to Mrs. Talbot!”

“The remark simply gives you my estimate of some of her favored visitors.”

“And complimentary to your wife,” added Irene.

“My wife,” said Hartley, in a serious voice, “is, like myself, young and inexperienced, and should be particularly cautious in regard to all new acquaintances—­men or women—­particularly if they be some years her senior, and particularly if they show any marked desire to cultivate her acquaintance.  People with a large worldly experience, like most of those we have met at Mrs. Talbot’s, take you and I at disadvantage.  They read us through at a single sitting, while it may take us months, even years, to penetrate the disguises they know so well how to assume.”