“Yes; why not?”
“What will people say?”
“I can tell you what they will not say,” she replied,
“Well?”
“They will not say, as they do of her, that of all men, I care least for my husband.”
“I am not afraid of their saying that; but—”
I was a little bewildered by this unexpected thought on the part of my wife, and did not at first see the matter clear.
“She has held herself very high, and quite aloof from many of her old friends,” Constance resumed. “While this was the case, I have not cared to intrude upon her; although she has been kind and polite to me whenever we happened to meet. Now, when the summer friends who courted her are dropping away like autumn leaves, a true friend may draw near and help her in the trial through which she is passing.”
“Right, Constance! right!” said I, warmly. “Your clearer eyes have gone down below, the surface. Oh, yes; call upon her, and be her true friend, if she will permit you to come near enough. There can be no loss to you; there may be great gain to her. Was there any thing in her manner that encouraged you to approach?”
“I think so. It was this, no doubt, that stirred the suggestion in my mind.”