CONFIDENCE
differently. Don't you see," Gordon went on with a sudden outbreak of passion—"don't you see that I am horribly divided in mind? I care immensely for Angela Vivian—and yet—and yet—I am afraid of her."
"Afraid of her?"
"I am afraid she's cleverer than I—that she would be a difficult wife; that she might do strange things."
"What sort of things?"
"Well, that she might flirt, for instance."
"That's not a thing for a man to fear."
"Not when he supposes his wife to be fond of him—no. But I don't suppose that—I have given that up. If I should induce Angela Vivian to accept me she would do it on grounds purely reasonable. She would think it best, simply. That would give her a chance to repent."
Bernard sat for some time looking at his friend.
"You say she is cleverer than you. It's impossible to be cleverer than you."
"Oh, come, Longueville!" said Gordon angrily.
"I am speaking very seriously. You have done a remarkably clever thing. You have impressed me with the reality, and with—what shall I term it?—the estimable character, of what you call your dilemma. Now this fresh impression of mine—what do you propose to do with it when you get it?"
"Such things are always useful. It will be a good thing to have."
"I am much obliged to you; but do you propose to let anything depend upon it? Do you propose to take or to leave Miss Vivian—that is, to return to the charge or to give up trying—in consequence of my fresh impression?"
Gordon seemed perfectly unembarrassed by this
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