“There is my problem—solve it.”
He eyed her closely, jealously.
“Are you putting an imaginary case?” he asked.
“Nay, answer my question before asking another.”
“Well, then, yes! I will tell you how this ought to end, and how it shall end, too. Belinda will soon feel it to be unwomanly, indelicate, undignified, to leave her heart in the possession of one who undervalues the priceless treasure; she will withdraw it, and yield it up at the demand of the rightful owner—of him who justly claims it because he prizes it above all treasures, and desires it above all possessions!”
“You think so?” said Rosalie, averting her face, and bending down, and stroking her horse’s mane.
“I know so.”
“How do you know it?”
“Because it ought to be so.”
“Again—why?”