Mrs. Elmore folded the letter carefully up and returned it to her husband. If he had perhaps dreaded some triumphant outburst from her, he ought to have been content with the thoroughly daunted look which she lifted to his, and the silence in which she suffered him to do justice to the writer. "This is the letter of a gentleman, Celia," he said. "Yes," she responded faintly. "It puts another complexion on the affair entirely." "Yes. Why did he wait a whole week?" she added. "It is a serious matter with him. He had a right to take time for thinking it over." Elmore looked at the date of the Peschiera postmark, and then at that of Venice on the back of the envelope. "No, he wrote at once. This has been kept in the Venetian office, and probably read there by the authorities." His wife did not heed the conjecture. "He began all wrong," she grieved. "Why couldn't he have behaved sensibly?" "We must look at it from another point of view now," replied Elmore. "He has repaired his error by this letter." "No, no; he hasn't." "The question is now what to do about the changed situation. This is an offer of marriage. It comes in the proper way. It's a very sincere and manly letter. The man has counted the whole cost: he's ready to leave the army and go to America, if she says so. He's in love. How can she refuse him?" "Perhaps she isn't in love with him," said Mrs. Elmore. "Oh! That's true. I hadn't thought of that. Then it's very simple." "But I don't know that she isn't," murmured Mrs. Elmore. "Well, ask her." "How could _she_ tell?" "How could she _tell_?" "Yes. Do you suppose a child like that can know her own mind in an instant?" "I should think she could." "Well, she couldn't. She liked the excitement,--the romanticality of it; but she doesn't know any more than you or I whether she cares for him. I don't suppose marriage with anybody has ever seriously entered her head yet." "It will have to do so now," said Elmore firmly. "There's no help for it." "I think the American plan is much better," pouted Mrs. Elmore. "It's horrid to know that a man's in love with you, and wants to marry you, from the very start. Of course it makes you hate him." "I dare say the American plan is better in this as in most other things. But we can't discuss abstractions, Celia. We must come down to business. What are we to do?" "I don't know." "We must submit the question to her." "To that innocent, unsuspecting little thing? Never!" cried Mrs. Elmore. "Then we must decide it, as he seems to expect we may, without reference to her," said her husband. "No, that won't do. Let me think." Mrs. Elmore thought to so little purpose that she left the word to her husband again. "You see we must lay the matter before her." "Couldn't--couldn't we let him come to see us awhile? Couldn't we explain our ways to him, and allow him to pay her attentions without letting her know about this letter?"