“Heaven bless you, Conyers, for your good opinion of Catherine. But I wish to put a case to you, only an imaginary case, you observe, Conyers?”
“Yes! Well?”
“Suppose you had married Catherine?”
“That is very imaginary! Well?”
“And suppose that you had discovered her to be unworthy of your good opinion?”
“Impossible! It could not have happened, because she could not have been unworthy.”
“But suppose that her unworthiness had been made manifest to you beyond all chance of mistake or doubt?”
“D—n it! Don’t let me be profane. It couldn’t have been made manifest to me, I tell you! Could any person or anything demonstrate to me that the sun darkened the earth, or the clouds dropped powdered charcoal, or that fig trees bore thorns? There are some things that can’t be proved, because they can’t exist!”
Major Clifton thrust his hand in his bosom, and drew thence a letter in a gray envelope, and handing it to General Conyers, asked—
“Do you know that hand-writing?”