“Oh, father!” was all she could say.
“You know,” he continued, “there is nothing on earth so disagreeable to me as a jealous woman—”
“Except, indeed, a prudish one,” chimed in Mr. Pluribusi.
“I have great cause, father, to be unhappy; for all the reports I have heard, have been confirmed by Mrs. Webster since her return home.”
“My opinion is, that you are wasting an immense amount of sorrow, all for nothing,” answered her father; “for with the characters of the truest and most upright slander will sometimes be busy. Entertain not so mean an opinion of your betrothed husband, as to believe he is capable of change. The brightest part of love is its confidence. It is that perfect, that unhesitating reliance, that interchange of every idea and every feeling; and that perfect community binds two beings together as closely as the holiest of human ties. It is only that confidence, that community of all the heart’s secrets, and the mind’s thoughts, that can give us permanent happiness.”
“Oh, father! could you but convince me that my doubts are unfounded.”
“I think I can settle the matter to your entire satisfaction, Mary,” quietly observed her uncle.
“How, uncle?” asked she, eagerly.
“You must consent to use a little stratagem,” replied he.
“If you think it right, and father sanctions it, I am willing to do any thing you propose,” she said, looking at her parent.