“I take you,” cried I, entering into his humor, “and I feel as certain of success as if I had your money in my hands.”
“Will you have another wager with me?” whispered Mary Crofton, as she came behind my chair. “It is, that you 'll not persuade Miss Herbert to wear this ring for my sake.”
“I 'll bet my life on it,” said I, taking the opal ring she drew from her finger, as she spoke; “I'm in that mood of confidence now, I feel there is nothing I could not promise.”
“If so, then, Potts, let me have the benefit of this fortunate interval, and ask you to promise me one thing, which is, not to change your mind more than twice a day; don't be angry with me, but hear me out. You are a good-hearted fellow, and have excellent intentions; I don't think I know one less really selfish, but, at the same time, you are so fickle of purpose, so undecided in action, that I 'd not be the least astonished to hear, when we asked for you to-morrow at breakfast time, that you had started for a tour in Norway, or on a voyage to the Southern Pacific.”
“And is this your judgment of me also, Miss Crofton?” said I, rising from my seat.
“Oh, no, Mr. Potts. I would only suspect you of going off into the Tyrol, or the Styrian Alps, and forgetting all about us, amidst the glaciers and the cataracts.”
“I wish you a good-night, and a better opinion of your humble servant,” said I, bowing.
“Don't go, Potts—wait a minute—come back. I have something to tell you.”
I closed the door behind me, and hastened off, not, however, perfectly clear whether I was the injured man, or one who had just achieved a great outrage.