“That is right,” he replied; “but which is likely to give you greater joy—­a literary success or a happy wifehood?  When you have spent your best years and given the public your best work they will throw you over for some new favorite.  You’ll find yourself an old woman with nothing more substantial to show as your life work than that questionable asset, a literary reputation.  How many literary reputations to-day conceal an aching heart and find it difficult to make both ends meet?  How different with the woman who married young and obeys Nature’s behest by contributing her share to the process of evolution.  Her life is spent basking in the affection of her husband and the chubby smiles of her dimpled babes, and when in the course of time she finds herself in the twilight of her life, she has at her feet a new generation of her own flesh and blood.  Isn’t that better than a literary reputation?”

He spoke so earnestly that Shirley looked at him in surprise.  She knew he was serious but she had not suspected that he thought so deeply on these matters.  Her heart told her that he was uttering the true philosophy of the ages.  She said: 

“Why, Jefferson, you talk like a book.  Perhaps you are right, I have no wish to be a blue stocking and deserted in my old age, far from it.  But give me time to think.  Let us first ascertain the extent of this disaster which has overtaken my father.  Then if you still care for me and if I have not changed my mind,” here she glanced slyly at him, “we will resume our discussion.”

Again she held out her hand which he had released.

“Is it a bargain?” she asked.

“It’s a bargain,” he murmured, raising the white hand to his lips.  A fierce longing rose within him to take her in his arms and kiss passionately the mouth that lay temptingly near his own, but his courage failed him.  After all, he reasoned, he had not yet the right.

A few minutes later they left the deck and went downstairs to dress for dinner.  That same evening they stood again at the rail watching the mysterious phosphorescence as it sparkled in the moonlight.  Her thoughts travelling faster than the ship, Shirley suddenly asked: 

“Do you really think Mr. Ryder will use his influence to help my father?”

Jefferson set his jaw fast and the familiar Ryder gleam came into his eyes as he responded: 

“Why not?  My father is all powerful.  He has made and unmade judges and legislators and even presidents.  Why should he not be able to put a stop to these preposterous proceedings?  I will go to him directly we land and we’ll see what can be done.”

So the time on shipboard had passed, Shirley alternately buoyed up with hope and again depressed by the gloomiest forebodings.  The following night they passed Fire Island and the next day the huge steamer dropped anchor at Quarantine.

CHAPTER VI.