“I only know that you want nothing between you and your upward path; and that is well, absolutely well.”
“That is true; and I have never wanted any evil thing, and I really doubt if anyone really wants evil things. Shall I tell you my history now?” she continued.
“I don’t see why you should.”
“Have you no curiosity?”
“Not of that kind. I am curious to know just how Reginald’s brain looks, and if his tranquil, happy life is accumulating force in the superior brain faster than he is using it. I would like to see if recuperative energy can be stored up like money in a bank, ready for a heavy draft, and—”
“If you weren’t so interested in all that, you would be more interested in my affairs.”
“Yes, if I were not so much interested in life as a religiously-scientific-problem, I would be more interested in gossip, and would now bid you good-by, and immediately would set the town alive with a little romance; which, instead, you will tell me much later, and will tell the rest of the world when you choose.” And with a long grasp of the hand, Ethelbert moved away as she spoke.
“Don’t you care to know?” said Mrs. Mancredo, following her up.
“I don’t care to know anything except the resurrection-truth that you can still make your life as beautiful as you choose. You are thirty-five years old; you have forty-five years to live in this world,” said Ethelbert. “Think of that, and fashion circumstances accordantly with the result you would like to see.”
“Well, I declare, I never thought of that way of doing,” said Mrs. Mancredo, after a pause. Then: “Do you really mean to say that you take me on trust?”