Only a learned and a manly soul
I purposed her, that should with even powers
The rock, the spindle, and the shears control
Of Destiny; and spin her own free hours.”
A piquant incident occurred while they yet lingered at dessert. The chief result, perhaps, of Muriel’s narration, was to lend an added blazon, in Mrs. Eastman’s mind, to the character of Harrington; and, by the way, she still firmly believed—his declaration to the contrary notwithstanding—that her daughter loved him.
“I often think,” she observed, during the conversation, “how superior John is to all other men I know. The other day I met him in the street, and my first impression was of his superiority in contrast to those around him.”
“Yes, that strikes one certainly,” returned Muriel, with a nonchalant air.
“Ah, there is none like him, none!” said Mrs. Eastman. “I wish I had the rewarding of him.”
Muriel laughed.
“Virtue is its own reward you know, mamma,” she said, playfully. “But what other reward would you give him?”