“I don’t believe in love,” said Charlotte. “But I wanted to be married for many reasons—most of all, because I couldn’t bear the life here.”
“Yes—I know. You’re not like me. But why didn’t you choose somebody else? I can’t understand marrying without love; but it seems to me, as I said, that if one is going to do such a thing one had better make a careful choice.”
“I did. I chose my husband for many reasons. He is richer than any of the men who proposed to me, and that’s a great thing. And he’s very good-natured, and what they call ‘an able man.’ There were lots of good reasons. There were things I didn’t like, of course; but I thought I could make him change. I did—in little things. He never wears a green tie now, for instance—”
“As if such things could make a difference in life’s happiness!” cried Katharine, contemptuously.
“My dear—they do. But never mind that. I thought I could—what shall I say?—develop his latent social talent. And I have. In that way he’s changed a good deal. You’ve not seen him this year, have you? No, of course not. Well, he’s not the same man. But it’s in the big things. I thought I could manage him, by sheer force of superior will, and make him do just what I wanted—oh, I made such a mistake!”
“And because you’ve married a man whom you can’t order about like a servant, you want to be divorced,” said Katharine, coldly.
“I knew you couldn’t understand,” Charlotte answered, with unusual gentleness. “I suppose you won’t believe me if I tell you that I suffer all the time, and—very, very much.”
Katharine did not understand, but her sister’s tone told her plainly enough that there was real trouble of some sort.
“Charlie,” she said, “there’s something on your mind—something else. How can I know what it is, unless you tell me, dear?”
Mrs. Slayback turned her head away, and bit her lip, as though the kind words had touched her.