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"
Can
you
be
happy
with
me
?
"
she
asked
--
"
Wait
--
do
not
answer
for
a
moment
,
till
I
tell
you
what
I
am
.
You
are
altogether
mistaken
in
me
.
"
She
was
silent
for
some
minutes
,
and
I
watched
her
anxiously
.
"
I
was
always
intended
for
this
"
--
she
said
slowly
at
last
--
"
this
,
to
which
I
have
now
come
--
to
be
the
property
of
a
rich
man
.
Many
men
have
looked
at
me
with
a
view
to
purchase
,
but
they
could
not
pay
the
price
my
father
demanded
.
Pray
do
not
look
so
distressed
!
--
what
I
say
is
quite
true
and
quite
commonplace
--
all
the
women
of
the
upper
classes
--
the
unmarried
ones
--
are
for
sale
now
in
England
as
utterly
as
the
Circassian
girls
in
a
barbarian
slave-market
.
I
see
you
wish
to
protest
,
and
assure
me
of
your
devotion
--
but
there
is
no
need
of
this
--
I
am
quite
sure
you
love
me
--
as
much
as
any
man
can
love
--
and
I
am
content
.
But
you
do
not
know
me
really
--
you
are
attracted
by
my
face
and
form
--
and
you
admire
my
youth
and
innocence
,
which
you
think
I
possess
.
But
I
am
not
young
--
I
am
old
in
heart
and
feeling
.
I
was
young
for
a
little
while
at
Willowsmere
,
when
I
lived
among
flowers
and
birds
and
all
the
trustful
honest
creatures
of
the
woods
and
fields
--
but
one
season
in
town
was
sufficient
to
kill
my
youth
in
me
--
one
season
of
dinners
and
balls
,
and
--
fashionable
novel-reading
.
Now
you
have
written
a
book
,
and
therefore
you
must
know
something
about
the
duties
of
authorship
--
of
the
serious
and
even
terrible
responsibility
writers
incur
when
they
send
out
to
the
world
books
full
of
pernicious
and
poisonous
suggestion
to
contaminate
the
minds
that
have
hitherto
been
clean
and
undiseased
.
Your
book
has
a
noble
motive
;
and
for
this
I
admire
it
in
many
parts
,
though
to
me
it
is
not
as
convincing
as
it
might
have
been
.
It
is
well
written
too
;
but
I
gained
the
impression
while
reading
it
,
that
you
were
not
altogether
sincere
yourself
in
the
thoughts
you
strove
to
inculcate
--
and
that
therefore
you
just
missed
what
you
should
have
gained
.
"
"
I
am
sure
you
are
right
,
"
--
I
said
,
with
a
wholesome
pang
of
humiliation
--
"
The
book
is
worthless
as
literature
--
it
is
only
the
'
boom
'
of
a
season
!
"
"
At
any
rate
,
"
--
she
went
on
,
her
eyes
darkening
with
the
intensity
of
her
feeling
--
"
you
have
not
polluted
your
pen
with
the
vileness
common
to
many
of
the
authors
of
the
day
.
I
ask
you
,
do
you
think
a
girl
can
read
the
books
that
are
now
freely
published
,
and
that
her
silly
society
friends
tell
her
to
read
--
'
because
it
is
so
dreadfully
queer
!
'
--
and
yet
remain
unspoilt
and
innocent
?
Books
that
go
into
the
details
of
the
lives
of
outcasts
?
--
that
explain
and
analyse
the
secret
vices
of
men
?
--
that
advocate
almost
as
a
sacred
duty
'
free
love
'
and
universal
polygamy
?
--
that
see
no
shame
in
introducing
into
the
circles
of
good
wives
and
pure-minded
girls
,
a
heroine
who
boldly
seeks
out
a
man
,
any
man
,
in
order
that
she
may
have
a
child
by
him
,
without
the
'
degradation
'
of
marrying
him
?
I
have
read
all
those
books
--
and
what
can
you
expect
of
me
?
Not
innocence
,
surely
!
I
despise
men
--
I
despise
my
own
sex
--
I
loathe
myself
for
being
a
woman
!
You
wonder
at
my
fanaticism
for
Mavis
Clare
--
it
is
only
because
for
a
time
her
books
give
me
back
my
self-respect
,
and
make
me
see
humanity
in
a
nobler
light
--
because
she
restores
to
me
,
if
only
for
an
hour
,
a
kind
of
glimmering
belief
in
God
,
so
that
my
mind
feels
refreshed
and
cleansed
.
All
the
same
,
you
must
not
look
upon
me
as
an
innocent
young
girl
Geoffrey
--
a
girl
such
as
the
great
poets
idealized
and
sang
of
--
I
am
a
contaminated
creature
,
trained
to
perfection
in
the
lax
morals
and
prurient
literature
of
my
day
.
"
I
looked
at
her
in
silence
,
pained
,
startled
,
and
with
a
sense
of
shock
,
as
though
something
indefinably
pure
and
precious
had
crumbled
into
dust
at
my
feet
.
She
rose
and
began
pacing
the
room
restlessly
,
moving
to
and
fro
with
a
slow
yet
fierce
grace
that
reminded
me
against
my
wish
and
will
of
the
movement
of
some
imprisoned
and
savage
beast
of
prey
.
"
You
shall
not
be
deceived
in
me
,
"
--
she
said
,
pausing
a
moment
and
eyeing
me
sombrely
--
"
If
you
marry
me
,
you
must
do
so
with
a
full
realization
of
the
choice
you
make
.
For
with
such
wealth
as
yours
,
you
can
of
course
wed
any
woman
you
fancy
.
I
do
not
say
you
could
find
a
girl
better
than
I
am
;
I
do
not
think
you
could
in
my
'
set
,
'
because
we
are
all
alike
--
all
tarred
with
the
same
brush
,
and
filled
with
the
same
merely
sensual
and
materialistic
views
of
life
and
its
responsibilities
as
the
admired
heroines
of
the
'
society
'
novels
we
read
.
Away
in
the
provinces
,
among
the
middle
classes
it
is
possible
you
might
discover
a
really
good
girl
of
the
purest
blush-rose
innocence
--
but
then
you
might
also
find
her
stupid
and
unentertaining
,
and
you
would
not
care
for
that
.
My
chief
recommendation
is
that
I
am
beautiful
--
you
can
see
that
;
everybody
can
see
that
--
and
I
am
not
so
affected
as
to
pretend
to
be
unconscious
of
the
fact
.
There
is
no
sham
about
my
external
appearance
;
my
hair
is
not
a
wig
--
my
complexion
is
natural
--
my
figure
is
not
the
result
of
the
corset-maker
's
art
--
my
eyebrows
and
eyelashes
are
undyed
.
Oh
yes
--
you
can
be
sure
that
the
beauty
of
my
body
is
quite
genuine
!
--
but
it
is
not
the
outward
expression
of
an
equally
beautiful
soul
.
And
this
is
what
I
want
you
to
understand
.
I
am
passionate
,
resentful
,
impetuous
--
frequently
unsympathetic
,
and
inclined
to
morbidness
and
melancholy
,
and
I
confess
I
have
imbibed
,
consciously
or
unconsciously
,
that
complete
contempt
of
life
and
disbelief
in
a
God
,
which
is
the
chief
theme
of
nearly
all
the
social
teachings
of
the
time
.
"
She
ceased
--
and
I
gazed
at
her
with
an
odd
sense
of
mingled
worship
and
disillusion
,
even
as
a
barbarian
might
gaze
at
an
idol
whom
he
still
loved
,
but
whom
he
could
no
longer
believe
in
as
divine
.
Yet
what
she
said
was
in
no
way
contrary
to
my
own
theories
--
how
then
could
I
complain
?
I
did
not
believe
in
a
God
;
why
should
I
inconsistently
feel
regret
that
she
shared
my
unbelief
?
I
had
involuntarily
clung
to
the
old-fashioned
idea
that
religious
faith
was
a
sacred
duty
in
womanhood
;
I
was
not
able
to
offer
any
reason
for
this
notion
,
unless
it
was
the
romantic
fancy
of
having
a
good
woman
to
pray
for
one
,
if
one
had
no
time
and
less
inclination
to
pray
for
one
's
self
.
However
,
it
was
evident
Sibyl
was
'
advanced
'
enough
to
do
without
superstitious
observances
;
she
would
never
pray
for
me
;
--
and
if
we
had
children
,
she
would
never
teach
them
to
make
their
first
tender
appeals
to
Heaven
for
my
sake
or
hers
.
I
smothered
a
slight
sigh
,
and
was
about
to
speak
,
when
she
came
up
to
me
and
laid
her
two
hands
on
my
shoulders
.
"
You
look
unhappy
,
Geoffrey
,
"
--
she
said
in
gentler
accents
--
"
Be
consoled
!
--
it
is
not
too
late
for
you
to
change
your
mind
!
"
