t
matter. Satisfy me that there is nothing objectionable against this Mr.
Spence, and if you wish to marry him I shall not offer serious
opposition. It is all nonsense about your not being able to care for
anybody. If you like a man well enough to become his wife, the rest will
follow. I should be glad to see you married."

"I like Mr. Spence very much; but it is his theory of Moderation that
interests me even more than himself," I answered, uncertain how to lead
up to the condition of our marriage, which I knew now would irritate my
father greatly. He had received the news of Mr. Spence's offer much
more favorably than I expected. It was evident he wished me to marry
some one.

"As you have said, father, I have interests of my own of which you do
not know. I have given five hours almost every day during the past year
to the study of the principles of this philosophy. I have found my field
of usefulness there, it seems to me. By continuing this work and
becoming the wife of Mr. Spence, I feel that I shall be doing more good
in the world than I could in any other way. If you ask me if I love Mr.
Spence, candor compels me to say that I do not. If you ask if I am
particularly happy at the prospect of marrying him, I must say that I am
not. But it seems to me the best chance that is likely to offer. I
respect him thoroughly, and, as you say, the rest may follow. A life
devoted to a noble theory is better suited to my tastes and capacities
than the control of a large fortune."

"You are a little morbid, Virginia," he interrupted. "My original
impression is confirmed. This is no match for you. I warn you against
the danger of becoming addicted to _fads_ and _isms_. Your Aunt Agnes
has made herself ridiculous and alienated all her friends by just such a
course. I have not a word to say against a thorough education, as you
must well know; but when a woman begins to talk about devoting her life
to the principles of philosophy, 'Look out!' say I. It is not natural.
She needs a new bonnet, and a few balls and parties. But even supposing
you marry this Socrates and become as learned as he, how is that
inconsistent with taking care of your fortune?"

"I thought I told you, father," I said.

"Told me what?"

"That Mr. Spence objected to my fortune."

"Objected, did he? How is he to help himself? Besides, the money is mine
until I am dead. If he is so infernally proud, he needn't touch any of
it until then. I fancy he might g