“What do you say, Elfrida? You will not go on this tour with your husband and children? You will stay here with your invalid brother? That is good news to me, but what will your husband say to such a plan?”
“Of course I had a talk with Mr. Force before making up my mind. We talked it over last night. He thinks just as I do—that it is best for me to stay with you.”
“He is very kind; very, very kind. But you will both give up much for the sake of a poor, sick man.”
“No, indeed. I really do not care for the continental tour, I have made it so often.”
“But there are so many changes since you made it last.”
“Yes, there is gas instead of lamplight in all the cities; railway trains instead of diligences on all the highways; and sons on the thrones of their fathers. I am content to know of these things. I do not care to see them.”
“But Mr. Force? He will miss you.”
“Dear brother, our honeymoon was passed twenty-two years ago. Young love has matured to old love, or rather to love that never can know age nor absence. It is not necessary that we should always be looking into each other’s eyes to make sure that we are happy in our union.”
“Yet I dare say you never tried it. I dare swear you were never apart from each other for twenty-four hours in your married life.”
“No; we never were.”