“Send John to speak plainly to Richard. That will give your brother an opportunity to say what he wishes. If the young men are not likely to agree, tell John to propose my advice in the matter. You can trust me to do right, daughter?”
“Yes, I can.”
In the evening Phyllis called on the Bishop again. He was walking in his garden enjoying the cool breeze, and when he saw her carriage he went to meet her. A glance into her face was sufficient. He led her into the little parlor under the fig-tree. “So you are in trouble, Phyllis?”
“Yes, father. The conversation you advised had unfortunately taken place before I got an opportunity to speak to John. There has been a quarrel.”
“What was said?”
“I scarcely know how the conversation began; but Richard told John, that people were talking about his intimacy with me; and that, as marriage was impossible between us, the intimacy must cease.”
“What else?”
“I do not know; many hard things were said on both sides, and John went away in a passion.”
“Go home and see your brother, and make some concessions to his claim upon your love. Tell him that you will not marry John for two years; that will give John time to prepare in some measure for your comfort. Promise in addition any thing that is reasonable. I fear Richard’s temper, but I fear John’s more; for the anger of a patient man is a deep anger, and John has been patient, very. Don’t you be impatient, Phyllis. Wait for time to carry you over the stream, and don’t fling yourself into the flood, and perish.”
“Two years!”