"But, Lily, that love, from its very nature, must cease; or, rather, such love is not the same as that you felt when you thought that you were to be his wife."
"Yes, it is. If she died, and he came to me in five years' time, I would still take him. I should think myself constrained to take him."
"But she is not dead, nor likely to die."
"That makes no difference. You don't understand me, mamma."
"I think I do, and I want you to understand me also. I know how difficult is your position; I know what your feelings are; but I know this also, that if you could reason with yourself, and bring yourself in time to receive John Eames as a dear friend—"
"I did receive him as a dear friend. Why not? He is a dear friend. I love him heartily,—as you do."
"You know what I mean?"
"Yes, I do; and I tell you it is impossible."
"If you would make the attempt, all this misery would soon be forgotten. If once you could bring yourself to regard him as a friend, who might become your husband, all this would be changed,—and I should see you happy!"
"You are strangely anxious to be rid of me, mamma!"