weak enough to believe that your wife and family—I mean the wife and family under this roof—had all your money, and all your thoughts; but I have lived to find the bitter contrary.” Still Jericho held manfully by the newspaper; and with his blood burning and bubbling in his ears, would not make reply—not one word. “And you are resolved that the dear girls shall not go? You have made[Pg 45] your mind up to blight their future prospects? You are determined to keep us all here like nuns, that other people—I said other people, Mr. Jericho—should run riot in what lawfully belongs to your own family? And your excuse is—you haven’t the means! But I know better.” [Pg 45] And here Jericho, with a wan look, laid down the newspaper; then ventured to glance appealingly in the face of Mrs. Jericho, and sighed. Mrs. Jericho was not to be moved. She was there to fulfil a great purpose. She had, or thought she had, some solemn warning in her breast that the approaching festival at Jogtrot Lodge portended greatness to one, haply to both her daughters: and the children should make a seemly preparation for their destiny. They should be drest and adorned for the best luck that could befal them. With whatever state it might please fortune to smile upon them, they should be worthy of her most affectionate notice. This determination every moment grew stronger in the heart of the mother, who dropt her cold regards upon the newspaper, and then slowly raised it in her hand. A cruel, cutting smile of irony sharpened her lips. “Oh yes,” she said, “I see what has engaged you in this paper. It’s very plain!” “What’s plain?” asked Jericho. “Oh, the advertisement here. ’Pon my word, I think the press of the country has come to something, when it brings morning vipers into the bosom of a family.” “Morning vipers! What is the woman after?” “The liberty of the press! The libertinism, Mr. Jericho, that’s the word. Now, do you suppose that I can be so darkened, not to see that this advertisement is addressed to you?” and Mrs. Jericho pointed her finger like a dagger to the top of a column. “Is the woman mad?” asked Jericho. “No, sir; and it’s the wonder of all my friends—all who know your conduct—that I am not. For this—this is enough to make me mad,” and Mrs. Jericho read from the top column these mysterious words:— [Pg 46]
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