Then he got up, and took down a large volume from a book-shelf, and seated once more in his chair, with the book on the table, adjusted his glasses, and opening the leaves, turned them slowly, as one looking through the pages of a dictionary to discover something.
As last he found the place he needed, and for some time read in silence; then closed the book and instantly removed his glasses as he looked across at her.
“I’ve been through the list of merits, Rosalie, and have decided yours is the questionable merit of clinging on. None others have had much time to develop yet. They may be there, no doubt, but have not, as it were, yet come of age.”
“Clinging on! It’s very questionable, isn’t it?”
“Yes; but you’ll have one or two stiff examinations to pass in it before you’ve finished.”
“But—but the people who cling on are—are so insufferable.” And it must be acknowledged a very real tear of disappointment stood in her eye.
“Would you have liked some higher-sounding virtue?”
“Yes; I thought you were going to say meekness and gentleness, or some of the great gifts of the spirit. I never read that ‘clinging on’ was counted much in the Book of Divine Inspiration. Besides, who have I been clinging on to? I deserted the Serpent just—”
“Just at the right time. There is where the virtue comes. Had you been any earlier you would have shown great fickleness. Besides, after all, I don’t think you’re very heavy, Rosalie. You would not be such an insufferable load to drag along.”
“I don’t know, I’m sure. But anyway, I’ll trust to you.”