“I never loved any one yet, dear, and it’s very unlikely I ever shall. But I think I know the signs of the feeling.”
Monica came behind her, and leaned upon her shoulder.
“He loves me so much that he has made me think I must marry him. And I am glad of it. I’m not like you, Milly; I can’t be contented with this life. Miss Barfoot and Miss Nunn are very sensible and good people, and I admire them very much, but I can’t go their way. It seems to me that it would be dreadful, dreadful, to live one’s life alone. Don’t turn round and snap at me; I want to tell you the truth whilst you can’t see me. Whenever I think of Alice and Virginia, I am frightened; I had rather, oh, far rather, kill myself than live such a life at their age. You can’t imagine how miserable they are, really. And I have the same nature as theirs, you know. Compared with you and Miss Haven I’m very weak and childish.”
After drumming on the table for a moment, with wrinkled brows, Mildred made grave response.
“You must let me tell the truth as well. I think you’re going to marry with altogether wrong ideas. I think you’ll do an injustice to Mr. Widdowson. You will marry him for a comfortable home—that’s what it amounts to. And you’ll repent it bitterly some day—you’ll repent.”
Monica raised herself and stood apart.
“For one thing,” pursued Mildred, with nervous earnestness, “he’s too old. Your habits and his won’t suit.”
“He has assured me that I shall live exactly the kind of life I please. And that will be what he pleases. I feel his kindness to me very much, and I shall do my utmost to repay him.”
“That’s a very nice spirit; but I believe married life is no easy thing even when the people are well matched. I have heard the most dreadful stories of quarrelling and all sorts of unhappiness between people I thought safe from any such dangers. You may be fortunate; I only say that the chances are very much against it, marrying from such motives as you confess.”
Monica drew herself up.