“What was I saying, Caudle? Oh, about the way some men bind their widows. To my mind, there is nothing so little. When a man forbids his wife to marry again without losing what he leaves - it’s what I call selfishness after death. Mean to a degree! It’s like taking his wife into the grave with him. Eh?
“You never want to do that?
“No, I’m sure of that, love: you’re not the man to tie a woman up in that mean manner. A man who’d do that would have his widow burnt with him, if he could - just as those monsters, that call themselves men, do in the Indies.
“However, it’s no matter to me how you’ve made your will; but it may be to your second wife. What?
“I shall never give you a chance?
“Ha! you don’t know my constitution after all, Caudle. I’m not at all the woman I was. I say nothing about ’em, but very often you don’t know my feelings. And as we’re on the subject, dearest, I have only one favour to ask. When you marry again - now it’s no use your saying that. After the comforts you’ve known of marriage - what are you sighing at, dear? - after the comforts, you must marry again - now don’t forswear yourself in that violent way, taking an oath that you know you must break - you couldn’t help it, I’m sure of it; and I know you better than you know yourself. Well, all I ask is, love, because it’s only for your sake, and it would make no difference to me then - how should it? - but all I ask is, don’t marry Miss Pret - There! there! I’ve done: I won’t say another word about it; but all I ask is, don’t. After the way you’ve been thought of, and after the comforts you’ve been used to, Caudle, she wouldn’t be the wife for you. Of course I could then have no interest in the matter - you might marry the Queen of England, for what it would be to me then - I’m only anxious about you. Mind, Caudle, I’m not saying anything against her; not at all; but there’s a flightiness in her manner - I dare say, poor thing, she means no harm, and it may be, as the saying is, only her manner after all - still, there is a flightiness about her that, after what you’ve been used to, would make you very wretched. Now, if I may boast of anything, Caudle, it is my propriety of manner the whole of my life. I know that wives who’re very particular aren’t thought as well of as those who’re not - still, it’s next to nothing to be virtuous, if people don’t seem so. And virtue, Caudle - no, I’m not going to preach about virtue, for I never do. No; and I don’t go about with my virtue, like a child with a drum, making all sorts of noises with it. But I know your principles. I shall never forget what I once heard you say to Prettyman: and it’s no excuse that you’d taken so much wine you didn’t know what you were saying at the time; for wine brings out man’s wickedness, just as fire brings out spots of grease.
“What did you say?
“Why, you said this: - ‘Virtue’s a beautiful thing in women, when they don’t make so much noise about it: but there’s some women who think virtue was given ’em, as claws were given to cats’ - yes, cats was the word - ‘to do nothing but scratch with.’ That’s what you said.
“You don’t recollect a syllable of it?
“No, that’s it; when you’re in that dreadful state, you recollect nothing: but it’s a good thing I do.