“But don’t you think a man who had only follies to regret might expect a good woman to lend him a hand and make him happy?”
“If he has wasted his life he must take the consequences, and be content with pity and indifference, instead of respect and love. Many good women do ‘lend a hand,’ as you say, and it is quite Christian and amiable, I’ve no doubt; but I cannot think it a fair bargain.”
Mr. Fletcher liked to make Christie talk, for in the interest of the subject she forgot herself, and her chief charm for him was her earnestness. But just then the earnestness did not seem to suit him, and he said, rather sharply:
“What hard-hearted creatures you women are sometimes! Now, I fancied you were one of those who wouldn’t leave a poor fellow to his fate, if his salvation lay in your hands.”
“I can’t say what I should do in such a case; but it always seemed to me that a man should have energy enough to save himself, and not expect the ‘weaker vessel,’ as he calls her, to do it for him,” answered Christie, with a conscious look, for Mr. Fletcher’s face made her feel as if something was going to happen.
Evidently anxious to know what she would do in aforesaid case, Mr. Fletcher decided to put one before her as speedily as possible, so he said, in a pensive tone, and with a wistful glance:
“You looked very happy just now when I came up. I wish I could believe that my return had any thing to do with it.”
Christie wished she could control her tell-tale color, but finding she could not, looked hard at the sea, and, ignoring his tender insinuation, said, with suspicious enthusiasm:
“I was thinking of what Mrs. Saltonstall said this morning. She asked me if I would like to go to Paris with her for the winter. It has always been one of my dreams to go abroad, and I do hope I shall not be disappointed.”
Christie’s blush seemed to be a truer answer than her words, and, leaning a little nearer, Mr. Fletcher said, in his most persuasive tone: