"Perhaps my language is stronger than you realize. The woman who could answer to my ideal would be nearly perfect."
"And do you think such a paragon would go out among the border ruffians with you?"
"No, nor anywhere else with me. I was speaking of my ideal."
"You do not expect to marry your ideal, then?"
"I suppose love transfigures the one we love, and that this is the only way we can ever meet our ideal in this life. But sometimes we see one who it seems might approach even the ideal of our unbiased fancy."
"It is well that you admire these exquisite creatures at a distance," she said, dryly. "I can't see why men will always be so foolish as to think pretty women are good women. But if I am not a child why may I not read that book? You intimate that it will not shake my belief."
"I do not think it would,—at least I hope it would not."
"You are not sure."
"I'm sure it will not shake the Bible. Every age has teemed with infidel books. Yet God's Word stands to-day as strong and serene as that mountain yonder, to which the setting sun has given a crown of light."
"Your figure is pretty, but unfortunate. The sun is indeed 'setting,' and soon the mountain will lose its crown of light and vanish in darkness."