‘I am to be married to Mr. Walpole.’
‘What! to that contemptuous young man you have already told me so much of. How have they brought you down to this?’
‘There is no thought of bringing down; his rank and place are above my own—he is by family and connection superior to us all.’
‘And what is he, or how does he aspire to you? Is the vulgar security of competence to live on—is that enough for one like you? is the well-balanced good-breeding of common politeness enough to fill a heart that should be fed on passionate devotion? You may link yourself to mediocrity, but can you humble your nature to resemble it. Do you believe you can plod on the dreary road of life without an impulse or an ambition, or blend your thoughts with those of a man who has neither?’
She stood still and did not utter a word.
‘There are some—I do not know if you are one of them—who have an almost shrinking dread of poverty.’
‘I am not afraid of poverty.’
‘It has but one antidote, I know—intense love! The all-powerful sense of living for another begets indifference to the little straits and trials of narrow fortune, till the mind at last comes to feel how much there is to live for beyond the indulgence of vulgar enjoyments; and if, to crown all, a high ambition be present, there will be an ecstasy of bliss no words can measure.’
‘Have you failed in Ireland?’ asked she suddenly.
‘Failed, so far as to know that a rebellion will only ratify the subjection of the country to England; a reconquest would be slavery. The chronic discontent that burns in every peasant heart will do more than the appeal to arms. It is slow, but it is certain.’