"Mamma says Dick is a physical gentleman and a moral scamp; and she forbids me to speak or write to him. That is the whole situation, Yanna."
"It is a very plain one, Rose. There is nothing to discuss in it. You ought not to answer his letter at all."
"Dick says he will blow his brains out, if I do not see him."
"I am sure you are not in love with Dick. You are far too conscientious, far too morally beautiful yourself, to be in love with a moral scamp. I know that you would not do anything deliberately wrong, Rose."
"Do not swear by me, Yanna. I cannot swear by myself. I have actually told Dick that I will meet him next Monday--at your house."
"Indeed, Rose, you must destroy that letter."
"It is a beautiful letter. I spent two hours over it."
"But Dick can call at your house, and I will just 'happen in.' There is no harm in that. You can be present all the time, if you wish."
"I will ask father. Of course, I must tell him the circumstances."
"And of course, he will go into a passion about his honor, and his honor to Mr. Filmer, and all the other moralities. You are real mean, Yanna."
"I am real kind, Rose. Please give me the letter. You know that you are going to do a wicked and foolish thing. Rose, I have always thought you a very angel of purity and propriety. I cannot imagine a man like this touching the hem of your garment. Give me the letter, Rose. Positively, it must not go to him."
"But Dick is suffering; and I am sorry for him."
"We have no right to be sorry for the wicked. The wicked ought to suffer; sympathy for them, or with them, is not blessed. I am so glad to see you crying, Rose. If you sent that letter, it would trouble your soul, as a mote in your eye would torture your sight. In both cases, the trouble would be to wash out with tears. Give me the letter, and I will destroy it."
Then Rose laid it upon the table, and buried her face in her pillow, sobbing bitterly, "I do like Dick! Right or wrong, I want to see him."
"I may tear up the letter, Rose? It must be done. Shall I do it?"
"Could you not let Dick call at your house once? Only once?"
"It is not my house. I should have to ask father."
"Things that are permissible 'only once' ought never to be done at all. Do you remember how often Miss Mitchell told us that?"