She put it so sweetly
that I only wish you could have been there to hear her."
"Father, what is the good of it all? You hate turncoats even worse than
traitors. Would you like your daughter to be one? And when she would
seem to have turned her coat--for the ladies wear coats now, the horrid
ugly things!--for the sake of position, and title, and all that. If Lord
Dashville had been a poor man, with his own way to make in the world, a
plain Mister, there might have been more to be said for it. But to
think that I should throw over my poor darling because he will come home
without a penny, and perhaps tattoed, but at any rate turned black, for
the sake of a coronet, and a heap of gold--oh, father, I shall break
down, if you go on so!"
"My dear girl, I will not say a word to vex you. But you are famous for
common-sense, as well as every other good quality, and I would ask you
to employ just a little of it. Can you bear me to speak of your trouble,
darling?"
"Oh yes, I am so well accustomed to it now; and I know that it is
nothing compared to what thousands of people have to bear. Sometimes I
am quite ashamed of giving way to it."
"You do not give way to it, Faith. No person can possibly say that of
you. You are my brave, unselfish, cheerful, sweet-natured, upright, and
loving child. Nobody knows, but you and I--and perhaps I know it even
more than you do--the greatness of the self-command you use, to be
pleasant and gay and agreeable, simply for the sake of those around
you.
Pages:
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471