He is
grossly earthy in his view of us. We are unable to move a step in thought
or act unless we submit to have a husband. That is his reasoning. Nature!
Nature! I have to hear of Nature! We must be above Nature, I tell him,
or, we shall be very much below. He is ranked among our clever young men;
and he can be amusing. So far he passes muster; and he has a pleasant
voice. I dare say he is an uncle Homeware's good sort of boy. Girls like
him. Why does he not fix his attention upon one of them; Why upon me? We
waste our time in talking of him . . . . The secret of it is, that he has
no reverence. The marriage he vaunts is a mere convenient arrangement for
two to live together under command of nature. Reverence for the state of
marriage is unknown to him. How explain my feeling? I am driven into
silence. Cease to speak of him . . . . He is the dupe of his
eloquence--his passion, he calls it. I have only to trust myself to him,
and--I shall be one of the world's married women! Words are useless. How
am I to make him see that it is I who respect the state of marriage by
refusing; not he by perpetually soliciting.
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