Uncertain, coy, and hard to please;
When pain and sickness wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou."
"You speak in the plural, sir," rejoined Gilbert gravely. "You say, you like to see women about the house, that they are cheerful, they brighten up a place. Do you suppose—granting that I am a follower of Mormon—that six would be sufficient?"
"I'm not in the humour for jokes! I'm serious, Gilbert, whatever you may be. I want to see a pretty young face in the carriage, and opera box, and the family diamonds on a pretty neck and arms—they have not been worn for years—the very sight of them would make any girl jump at you," he concluded in a cajoling voice.
"Then, for heaven's sake, don't display them."
"Gilbert, you are enough to drive me mad. I begin to think—'pon my word, I begin to suspect—that you have a reason for all this fencing," glancing at him suspiciously beneath his frost-white eyebrows—"you are married already, sir; some low-born adventuress, some disreputable——"
"I am not," interrupted his son with a gesture of impatience.
"Then you are in love with a married woman!"
"You seem to have a very exalted idea of my character, sir, but again you are mistaken."