"I suppose you are an agnostic, father?" she said tentatively, one day, as they rode alongside a burn among the hills. "Most clever men are, I am told."
He was too startled to reply for a minute or two. Then he said, "I believe in God, and in a future life—where I shall meet your mother again, Bessie. Don't let any one shake you in that belief, my dear. As to the rest, it is not a subject for discussion, I think." And turning in his saddle, he drew her attention to the purple cloud-shadows flitting across the face of the hills on the other side of the valley.
Another time she asked him if he thought a man and his wife ought to continue to live together when there was no longer any love between them.
"Have they not sworn to take each other for 'better or worse'?" he replied.
"But if the man breaks his part of the contract, is the woman bound to keep hers?" the girl continued.
"Certainly," he replied, hurriedly. "There is one law for men and another for women. It would be very dangerous to the community if it were otherwise. You must learn to understand that fact, my dear. Look at that sunset. Glorious! We shall have a fine day to-morrow."
"I think it much better for a woman not to marry, father," persisted Elizabeth, regardless of the sunset.
"Nonsense, Bessie! You will think very differently some day, when you fall in love."
"I shall never fall in love," said Elizabeth; then added sententiously, "I think falling in love is all nonsense."
