“But it is the highest wisdom, too,” observed Muriel.
“Of course,” replied Harrington. “Verulam would be the last to gainsay that. I understand him to only mean that the mortal reason most exempt from the clouds of the other passions, is subject to the obscurations of this. It is one side of his tribute to the potency of love, and all human experience justifies it. Particularly ours,” he jestingly added.
At this moment a tap was heard at the library door. It was Patrick, who, all in smiles for the new-married couple, announced that Mr. Witherlee was in the parlor below.
“Jupiter!” exclaimed Wentworth. “Let’s have him up here, and give him a rowing.”
“Yes, do,” said Emily nervously. “Let’s hear what he has to say for himself.”
Muriel looked dubiously at Harrington.
“I really think,” said Harrington, in answer to her look, “that Fernando ought to have a lesson on the danger and folly of such detraction and mischief-making as he practises. It would be salutary.”
“Well then—but, Richard, you must promise me that you won’t get angry at Mr. Witherlee—that you’ll talk to him calmly,” said Muriel.
“Oh, indeed I will!” declared Wentworth, rubbing his hands gleefully, and all alive with eagerness. “Only have him up here. I promise sacredly that I’ll be as gentle as a sucking dove.”
“And you, Emily, you must engage to be calm,” said Muriel.