Roma’s fair face flushed crimson to the edges of her blond hair.
“But,” she said, somewhat indignantly, “I think the world places a very low and evil estimate on woman when it presumes to infer that because she is neither married, widowed nor aged, she cannot, therefore, be trusted to preserve her own good name and fair fame.”
“Perhaps so, my child,” temperately replied the old rector, “but we are not the autocrats of society; public opinion is, and it is generally right; so that in every instance in which it does not conflict with conscience we should submit to its laws.”
“Very well, Dr. Shaw. I will advertise for an elderly lady as chaperon, though I do shrink from having the constant companionship of a perfect stranger,” said Roma submissively.
“Well, child, it is a risk, I know; for even in the most respectable woman, most highly recommended, you may chance to find an uncongenial companion, or you may find a ‘perfect treasure.’ But you can always get rid of one who does not suit.”
“Oh, no,” said Roma, “that is just what I could never do. Once having taken a ‘poor lady,’ as such a person must be, into the house, I should not like to send her away.”
“No,” said Mr. Merritt, breaking into the tête-à-tête for the first time, “Roma would keep her for the term of her natural life, however disagreeable she might be—an incubus, an old man of the sea. So you must be very careful, my dear girl, in your selection of a chaperon—as careful as a man should be in the choosing of a wife.”
A summons to dinner broke up the conference.
CHAPTER XVII
ROMA’S DECISION
Miss Fronde’s guests left Goblin Hall very soon after dinner, the lawyer to go back to his chambers in Washington, the minister to return to his parsonage.