“Lisabel, you are talking of what you do not understand. You never did, and never will understand my Max and Thekla, any more than Francis there, though he once thought it so fine, when he was teaching Penelope German, a few years ago.” “Dora, your excitement is unlady-like.” “I do not care,” she answered, turning upon her elder sister with flashing eyes. “To sit by quietly and hear such doctrines, is worse than unlady-like--unwoman-like! You two girls may think as you please on the matter; but I know what I have always thought--and think still.” “Pray, will you indulge us with your creed?” cried Mr. Charteris. She hesitated--her cheeks burnt like fire--but still she spoke out bravely. “I believe, spite of all you say, that there is, not only in books, but in the world, such a thing as love, unselfish, faithful and true, like that of my Thekla and my Max. I believe that such a love--a _right_ love--teaches people to think of the _right_ first, and themselves afterwards; and, therefore, if necessary, they could bear to part for any number of years--or even for ever.” “Bless us all; I wouldn't give two farthings for a man who would not do anything--do wrong even--for my sake.” “And I, Lisabel, should esteem a man a selfish coward, whom I might pity, but I don't think I could ever love him again, if in any way he did wrong for mine.” From my corner, whither I had gone and sat down a little out of the circle, I saw this young face--flashing, full of a new expression. Dallas, when he talked sometimes, used to have just such a light in his eyes--just such a glory streaming from all his features; but then he was a boy, and this was a woman. Ay, one felt her womanhood, the passion and power of it, with all its capabilities for either blessing or maddening, in the very core of one's being. The others chattered a little more, and then I heard her speaking again. “Yes, Lisabel, you are quite right; I do _not_ think it of so very much importance, whether people who are very deeply attached, ever live to be married or not. In one sense they are married already, and nothing can come between them, so long as they love one another.” This seemed an excellent joke to the Trehernes, and drew a remark or two from Mr. Charteris, to which she refused to reply. “No; you put me in a passion, and forced me to speak; but I have done now. I shall not argue the point any more.” Her voice trembled, and her little hands nervously clutched and plaited the table-cloth; but she sat in her place, without moving features or eyes. Gradually the burning in her cheeks faded, and she grew excessively pale; but no one seemed to notice her. They were too full of themselves.