"Yes, certainly," said Mrs Clare. "The words of King Lemuel" (she

could cite chapter and verse as well as her husband). "My dear son,

your father has decided to read us the chapter in Proverbs in praise

of a virtuous wife. We shall not need to be reminded to apply the

words to the absent one. May Heaven shield her in all her ways!"

A lump rose in Clare's throat. The portable lectern was taken out

from the corner and set in the middle of the fireplace, the two old

servants came in, and Angel's father began to read at the tenth verse

of the aforesaid chapter-"Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far

above rubies. She riseth while it is yet night, and

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giveth meat to her household. She girdeth her loins

with strength and strengtheneth her arms. She

perceiveth that her merchandise is good; her candle

goeth not out by night. She looketh well to the ways

of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.

Her children arise up and call her blessed; her husband

also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done

virtuously, but thou excellest them all." When prayers were over, his mother said-

"I could not help thinking how very aptly that chapter your dear

father read applied, in some of its particulars, to the woman you

have chosen. The perfect woman, you see, was a working woman; not an

idler; not a fine lady; but one who used her hands and her head and

her heart for the good of others. 'Her children arise up and call

her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters

have done virtuously, but she excelleth them all.' Well, I wish I

could have seen her, Angel. Since she is pure and chaste, she would

have been refined enough for me."

Clare could bear this no longer. His eyes were full of tears, which

seemed like drops of molten lead. He bade a quick good night to

these sincere and simple souls whom he loved so well; who knew

neither the world, the flesh, nor the devil in their own hearts, only

as something vague and external to themselves. He went to his own

chamber. His mother followed him, and tapped at his door. Clare opened it to

discover her standing without, with anxious eyes.

"Angel," she asked, "is there something wrong that you go away so

soon? I am quite sure you are not yourself."

"I am not, quite, mother," said he. "About her? Now, my son, I know it is that--I know it is about her!

Have you quarrelled in these three weeks?"




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