“No,” said Kate, “that is what surprises me. Lovers hate, or those who have been lovers. She is only indifferent. Philip, she had wound silk upon a torn piece of his carte-de-visite, and did not know it till I showed it to her. Even then she did not care.”
“Such is woman!” said Philip.
“Nonsense,” said Kate. “She had seen somebody whom she loved better, and she still loves that somebody. Who was it? She had not been introduced into society. Were there any superior men among her teachers? She is just the girl to fall in love with her teacher, at least in Europe, where they are the only men one sees.”
“There were some very superior men among them,” said Philip. “Professor Schirmer has a European reputation; he wears blue spectacles and a maroon wig.”
“Do not talk so,” said Kate. “I tell you, Emilia is not changeable, like you, sir. She is passionate and constant. She would have married that man or died for him. You may think that your sage counsels restrained her, but they did not; it was that she loved some one else. Tell me honestly. Do you not know that there is somebody in Europe whom she loves to distraction?”
“I do not know it,” said Philip.
“Of course you do not KNOW it,” returned the questioner. “Do you not think it?”
“I have no reason to believe it.”
“That has nothing to do with it,” said Kate. “Things that we believe without any reason have a great deal more weight with us. Do you not believe it?”
“No,” said Philip, point-blank.