“Done? Why, it would have mortified me dreadfully. I don’t believe I should have had any appetite for a week or more.”
“Some disappointed lovers,” said Leonie almost reproachfully, and with an air of chagrin, “become utterly desperate and try to take their own lives.”
“Oh, I know,” replied Mr. Weems. “Dreadful, isn’t it? But I generally try to bear up under misery. It’s a duty.”
“Could you bear misery for my sake, Julius? Do you think your love would endure if poverty should overtake us? Bitter, blinding poverty?”
“I am sure I could,” replied Mr. Weems with a renewed determination to discover in the morning if Mr. Cowdrick’s credit had been impaired.
“You believe, then, that love in a cottage is a possibility, do you, dear?” asked Leonie.
“Yes, darling; possible, but not fascinating. My observation is that love, upon the whole, has a better chance in a commodious mansion with all of the modern conveniences; with gas, water and a boy to answer the front-door bell. Love, darling, is like some other things in this world—it thrives better when it is comfortable.”
“Have you thought about our wedding, dear?” asked Leonie. “Where will we go upon our wedding journey? Wouldn’t it be splendid to take a trip to Europe?”
The suggestion did not seem to excite any great amount of enthusiasm in the heart of Mr. Weems. He said: “It would be very nice, but I am afraid it would be almost too expensive, unless your pa—Did your pa say anything about it?” asked Julius, with a faint expectation that Mr. Cowdrick may have intended to include a handsome cheque among the presents.
“No,” replied Leonie; “he said nothing. Only I thought may-be you might want to go.”