"Did you love papa very much, darling, when you married him?"
"Of course, dear," with a faint blush.
"Oh, mother, did you really?" Then, with a reflective sigh, "At that rate I am glad I do not love Mr. Carrington."
"Phyllis! what are you saying? It is the first duty of every woman to love her husband. You must try to regard Mr. Carrington in that light."
"I like him, and that is better. You were blind to papa's faults because you loved him; that was a mistake. Now, I shall not be blind to Marmaduke's; and if he does anything very horrid, or develops unpleasant symptoms, I shall be able to give him up before it is too late. If you had been fully alive to papa's little tempers, mother, I don't suppose you would ever have married him; would you?"
"Phyllis, I cannot allow you to discuss your father in this manner. It is neither dutiful nor proper; and it vexes me very much."
"Then I won't vex you. But I read in a book the other day. 'It is better to respect your husband than to love him.'"
"One should do both, of course; but, oh, Phyllis, try to love him; that is the great softener in the married life. It is so easy to forgive when love urges. You are wrong, my pet, but you have a tender heart, and so I pray all may be well with you. Yet when I think of your leaving me to face the wide world I feel lonely. I fancy I could have better spared Dora than my own wild Phyllis."
She whispers this soothingly into my ear, kisses me as only a mother can kiss, and leaves me presently wholly comforted. If mother indeed loves me, the scapegrace, better than her model Dora, I have reason to feel glad and grateful.
Meanwhile the household is divided. "The boy Billee," as Roland calls him, has been sent for two hours into solitary confinement, because, on hearing the great news, he exclaimed, "Didn't I tell you all along how it would be?" in a heartless and triumphant manner, thus adding insult to Dora's injury.