"
Mr. Fletcher sat down just where her hat-brim was no screen, pulled
off his gloves, and leisurely composed himself for a comfortable
lounge.
"What is your opinion of Rochester?" he asked, presently.
"Not a very high one."
"Then you think Jane was a fool to love and try to make a saint of
him, I suppose?"
"I like Jane, but never can forgive her marrying that man, as I
haven't much faith in the saints such sinners make."
"But don't you think a man who had only follies to regret might
expect a good woman to lend him a hand and make him happy?"
"If he has wasted his life he must take the consequences, and be
content with pity and indifference, instead of respect and love.
Many good women do 'lend a hand,' as you say, and it is quite
Christian and amiable, I 've no doubt; but I cannot think it a fair
bargain."
Mr. Fletcher liked to make Christie talk, for in the interest of the
subject she forgot herself, and her chief charm for him was her
earnestness. But just then the earnestness did not seem to suit him,
and he said, rather sharply:
"What hard-hearted creatures you women are sometimes! Now, I fancied
you were one of those who wouldn't leave a poor fellow to his fate,
if his salvation lay in your hands.
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