“But I need not marry at all. You are single, and I can remain to take care of you.”
“God bless you, Mabel! I know you would, and I do not say that the feeling is not right, for I suppose it is; and yet I believe there is another that is more so.”
“What can be more right than to honor one's parents?”
“It is just as right to honor one's husband, my dear child.”
“But I have no husband, father.”
“Then take one as soon as possible, that you may have a husband to honor. I cannot live for ever, Mabel, but must drop off in the course of nature ere long, if I am not carried off in the course of war. You are young, and may yet live long; and it is proper that you should have a male protector, who can see you safe through life, and take care of you in age, as you now wish to take care of me.”
“And do you think, father,” said Mabel, playing with his sinewy fingers with her own little hands, and looking down at them, as if they were subjects of intense interest, though her lips curled in a slight smile as the words came from them,—“and do you think, father, that Pathfinder is just the man to do this? Is he not, within ten or twelve years, as old as yourself?”
“What of that? His life has been one of moderation and exercise, and years are less to be counted, girl, than constitution. Do you know another more likely to be your protector?”
Mabel did not; at least another who had expressed a desire to that effect, whatever might have been her hopes and her wishes.
“Nay, father, we are not talking of another, but of the Pathfinder,” she answered evasively. “If he were younger, I think it would be more natural for me to think of him for a husband.”