“Not a bit of it! He was governed by habit. He knew nothing of gambling--had heard his father always preaching against it--it was not a temptation with him. His tastes were of another sort. He could not be tried in that way. The very fact that he was susceptible, in particular, to the charms of female society, saved him from the passion for gaming, as it would save him from the passion for drink. But the very tastes that saved him from one passion make him particularly susceptible to another. He can stand the temptation of play, but not that of women. Let him be tried THERE, and he falls! his principle would not save him--would not be worth a straw to a drowning man.” “You underrate--undervalue Edgerton. He has always been a true, generous friend of mine.” “Be it so! with that I have nothing to do. But friendship has its limits which it can not pass. Were Edgerton truly your friend, he would advise you as I have done. Nay, a proper sense of friendship and of delicacy would have kept him from paying that degree of attention to the wife which must be an hourly commentary on the neglect of her husband. I confess to you it was this very fact that made me resolve to speak to you.” “I thank you, my dear fellow, but I have nothing to fear. Poor Edgerton is dying--music and painting are his solace--they minister to his most active tastes. As for Julia, she is immaculate.” “I distrust neither; but you should not throw away your pearl, because you think it can not suffer stain.” “I do not throw it away.” “You do not sufficiently cherish it.” “What would you have me do--wear it constantly in my bosom?” “No! not exactly that; but at least wear nothing else there so frequently or so closely as that.” “I do not. I fancy I am a very good husband. You shall not put me out of humor, Kingsley, either with my wife or myself. You shall not make me jealous. I am no Othello--I have no visitations of the moon.” And I laughed--laughed while speaking thus--though the keen pang was writhing at that moment like a burning arrow through my brain. “I have no wish to make you jealous, Clifford, and I very much admire your superiority and strength. I congratulate you on your singular freedom from this unhappy passion. But you may become too confident. You may lose your wife's affections by your neglect, when you might not lose them by treachery.” “You are grown a croaker, Kingsley, and I will leave you. I will go home. I will show you what a good husband I am, or can become.” “That's right; but smoke another cigar before you go.” “There it is!” I exclaimed, laughingly. “You blow hot and cold. You would have me go and stay.”