"Well, well," laughed Mr. Rayne, "that is as well as if I saw it all. I think you take to 'exalted' phases of the drama—don't you, little one?"
"Well, you see," she said, shaking her head wisely, "other people's miseries and misfortunes, seem so romantic and exalted to us—there's the secret; I'm sure there's nothing we girls relish more than the story of some newly-wedded pair that disagree, of a wife who pines in sentimental solitude, or revenges herself in tragic retribution—that is great excitement for us—but amiable as any of us are, I don't think we'd consent to make romance for our girl friends at such a cost as that, do you?"
"Well, I rather hope you would not," Mr. Rayne answered, with a smile.
"How true it is though," Honor continued, "that we are all so much better adapted to bear one another's burdens of life than we are our own, we are always ready to say 'If we were they, we should never have done such and such things in such and such circumstances,' and after all, I do not think that in our own emergencies, we do one whit better, do you?"
"You are right there, child," her guardian answered, reflectively, "under our trying circumstances we always want to do our best, and yet our neighbors cannot help fancying that in our places they could have exercised so much more discretion than we—that is the way we make mistakes in life, attributing force and virtue to ourselves, which could only make themselves manifest were we in other people's shoes."
"Now, you think just like I do, I am so glad, because Vivian didn't, he said he thought other people, at least some other people, always did things infinitely better than he could do them."
"Did he?" queried Mr. Rayne, with a mischievous chuckle, "well, I suppose that those 'some other people' actually can, in his eyes. I wonder who he meant?"
"I am sure I don't know," said Honor, tapping her foot nervously on the shining fender, "but we both agreed that if such a thing happened in real life as was represented on the stage to-day, the man who thus slighted and neglected any woman he had promised to cherish and love, should be punished just as far as justice and humanity could go in punishing him."
"That is certainly true," said Mr, Rayne, "the punishment, in my eyes, should equal the crime, and the crime, I think, is unpardonable—but come now, we've talked enough about these awful things; I want my turn—you see—Honor, this is the fifth of December."
"Yes."