"You have better friends than me," she said, "and older friends."
"Yes; older friends; but none,—not one, who has done for me so much as you have; and certainly none for whom I have so great a regard. May God bless you, Miss Mackenzie!"
"May God bless you, too, Mr Rubb!"
What else could she say? When his civility took so decorous a shape, she could not bear to be less civil than he had been, or less decorous. And yet it seemed to her that in bidding God bless him with that warm pressure of the hand, she had allowed to escape from her an appearance of affection which she had not intended to exhibit.
"Thank you; thank you," said he; and then at last he went.
She seated herself slowly in her own chair near the window,—the chair in which she was accustomed to sit for many solitary hours, and asked herself what it all meant. Was she allowing herself to fall in love with Mr Rubb, and if so, was it well that it should be so? This would be bringing to the sternest proof of reality her philosophical theory on social life. It was all very well for her to hold a bold opinion in discussions with Miss Baker as to a "man being a man for a' that," even though he might not be a gentleman; but was she prepared to go the length of preferring such a man to all the world? Was she ready to go down among the Rubbs, for now and ever, and give up the society of such women as Miss Baker? She knew that it was necessary that she should come to some resolve on the matter, as Mr Rubb's purpose was becoming too clear to her. When an unmarried gentleman of forty tells an unmarried lady of thirty-six that she is the dearest friend he has in the world, he must surely intend that they shall, neither of them, remain unmarried any longer. Then she thought also of her cousin, John Ball; and some vague shadow of thought passed across her mind also in respect of the Rev. Mr Maguire.
CHAPTER XI
Miss Todd Entertains Some Friends at Tea
I believe that a desire to get married is the natural state of a woman at the age of—say from twenty-five to thirty-five, and I think also that it is good for the world in general that it should be so. I am now speaking, not of the female population at large, but of women whose position in the world does not subject them to the necessity of earning their bread by the labour of their hands. There is, I know, a feeling abroad among women that this desire is one of which it is expedient that they should become ashamed; that it will be well for them to alter their natures in this respect, and learn to take delight in the single state. Many of the most worthy women of the day are now teaching this doctrine, and are intent on showing by precept and practice that an unmarried woman may have as sure a hold on the world, and a position within it as ascertained, as may an unmarried man. But I confess to an opinion that human nature will be found to be too strong for them. Their school of philosophy may be graced by a few zealous students,—by students who will be subject to the personal influence of their great masters,—but it will not be successful in the outer world. The truth in the matter is too clear. A woman's life is not perfect or whole till she has added herself to a husband.