“Why is that so superior?” asked Emily.
“Because it develops bodily strength and activity more harmoniously than any other,” replied Muriel. “So Roland says.”
“Roland?” inquired Emily.
“Yes. Roland is the author of the best modern work on fencing,” answered Muriel. “Stay, I’ll read you what he says.”
She went to the book-shelves, and returned with the volume—Roland’s “Theory and Practice of Fencing.”
“Here it is,” she observed, finding the page. “Listen: ‘Perhaps there is no exercise whatever more calculated for these purposes (developing and cultivating bodily strength and activity) than fencing. Riding, walking, sparring, wrestling, running, and pitching the bar are all of them certainly highly beneficial, but beyond all question there is no single exercise which combines so many advantages as fencing. By it the muscles of every part of the body are brought into play; it expands the chest and occasions an equal distribution of the blood and other circulating fluids through the whole system. More than one case has fallen under the author’s own observation, in which affections of the lungs, and a tendency to consumption have been entirely removed by occasional practice with the foil; and he can state, upon the highest medical authority, that since the institution of the School of Arms at Geneva, scrofula, which was long lamentably prevalent there, had been gradually disappearing.’”
Just then a tap was heard at the door. Muriel dropped the book, and made one nimble spring through the entrance into her chamber, while Harrington went to the door. It was Patrick come to say that Mr. Witherlee was down-stairs.
“Tell him we’re engaged, Patrick, and ask him to excuse us,” rang the silver voice of Muriel through the half open entrance of her room.
Patrick departed, and as the door closed, Muriel emerged, laughing, from her hiding-place.