"Then why should you not establish yourself by a marriage that will make place a matter of indifference to you? I know that it is within your power to do so." Phineas put his hand up to his breastcoat pocket, and felt that Mary's letter,—her precious letter,—was there safe. It certainly was not in his power to do this thing which Lady Laura recommended to him, but he hardly thought that the present was a moment suitable for explaining to her the nature of the impediment which stood in the way of such an arrangement. He had so lately spoken to Lady Laura with an assurance of undying constancy of his love for Miss Effingham, that he could not as yet acknowledge the force of another passion. He shook his head by way of reply. "I tell you that it is so," she said with energy.
"I am afraid not."
"Go to Madame Goesler, and ask her. Hear what she will say."
"Madame Goesler would laugh at me, no doubt."
"Psha! You do not think so. You know that she would not laugh. And are you the man to be afraid of a woman's laughter? I think not."
Again he did not answer her at once, and when he did speak the tone of his voice was altered. "What was it you said of yourself, just now?"
"What did I say of myself?"
"You regretted that you had consented to marry a man,—whom you did not love."
"Why should you not love her? And it is so different with a man! A woman is wretched if she does not love her husband, but I fancy that a man gets on very well without any such feeling. She cannot domineer over you. She cannot expect you to pluck yourself out of your own soil, and begin a new growth altogether in accordance with the laws of her own. It was that which Mr. Kennedy did."
"I do not for a moment think that she would take me, if I were to offer myself."