“Do you want my honest opinion, Frank?”
“Of course I do, Prescott.”
“Very well, Frank; then I will give it you. I agree entirely with your uncle. You are a fool, and a thorough fool.”
It would have been a very dangerous proceeding for anyone else than Prescott to have expressed this opinion of Frank to his face. As it was, Frank looked for a moment as if inclined to be exceedingly angry, but glancing at Prescott’s thoughtful face as he looked into the fire, his brow cleared again, and he said,—
“At any rate, old man, I was a fool to ask your opinion, for I might have known beforehand what it would be. You had as good as said you were in the plot with uncle, and advised me to marry Alice, so you are put out by finding that you are ridiculously mistaken. I can only say, that as you would have doubtless acted so much more wisely in the matter than I have done, I wish you had been in my place.”
“I wish to heaven that I had been, Frank,” Prescott said, with an earnest sadness.
“Upon my word, I wish you had, Prescott, for I do believe that you love Alice; although why, if you do, you should have been urging me on to marry her, is more than I can make out.”
“I wished you to marry her, Frank, because, above all things, 1 should want to see her happy.”
“Then why in the name of fortune don’t you marry her, and make her happy yourself, Prescott?”
“Because she would not let me, Frank.”