"Yes, certainly," said Mrs Clare. "The words of King Lemuel" (she
could cite chapter and verse as well as her husband). "My dear son,
your father has decided to read us the chapter in Proverbs in praise
of a virtuous wife. We shall not need to be reminded to apply the
words to the absent one. May Heaven shield her in all her ways!"
A lump rose in Clare's throat. The portable lectern was taken out
from the corner and set in the middle of the fireplace, the two old
servants came in, and Angel's father began to read at the tenth verse
of the aforesaid chapter-"Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far
above rubies. She riseth while it is yet night, and
giveth meat to her household. She girdeth her loins
with strength and strengtheneth her arms. She
perceiveth that her merchandise is good; her candle
goeth not out by night. She looketh well to the ways
of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.
Her children arise up and call her blessed; her husband
also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done
virtuously, but thou excellest them all." When prayers were over, his mother said-
"I could not help thinking how very aptly that chapter your dear
father read applied, in some of its particulars, to the woman you
have chosen. The perfect woman, you see, was a working woman; not an
idler; not a fine lady; but one who used her hands and her head and
her heart for the good of others. 'Her children arise up and call
her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters
have done virtuously, but she excelleth them all.' Well, I wish I
could have seen her, Angel. Since she is pure and chaste, she would
have been refined enough for me."
Clare could bear this no longer. His eyes were full of tears, which
seemed like drops of molten lead. He bade a quick good night to
these sincere and simple souls whom he loved so well; who knew
neither the world, the flesh, nor the devil in their own hearts, only
as something vague and external to themselves. He went to his own
chamber. His mother followed him, and tapped at his door. Clare opened it to
discover her standing without, with anxious eyes.
"Angel," she asked, "is there something wrong that you go away so
soon? I am quite sure you are not yourself."
"I am not, quite, mother," said he. "About her? Now, my son, I know it is that--I know it is about her!
Have you quarrelled in these three weeks?"