“It would be the same with any man you might think fit to propose. If it is the fault of my sex, I cannot in reason be held responsible for it. It is not my fault that I am not born an exception. And I will admit, father, in this case I would infinitely prefer to follow the general rule,” she added, bitterly.
“There, there, my girl, don’t fret me with unkind speech. I have yielded to temper, I know, and am sorry for it. You have ever been a solace and a joy to me, and if I have set my heart on this matter, it is entirely for your good. You must marry some one.”
She allowed him passively to fondle her hand, but her face was still troubled and cold. Why was it so difficult for him, if he loved her, to understand and appreciate the nature of her repugnance? Are a girl’s objections never to count when others have her welfare in view?
“One would think I were disgraced, and marriage necessary at once as a shield for my reputation,” she retorted, crimsoning hotly, held by a sense of audacity and shame, as the full meaning of her words rushed upon her.
“Those are words it requires all my tenderness to forgive, Inarime,” said Pericles, gravely. “You wonder at my anxiety to marry you. Is it not simply a father’s duty? It is, moreover, a duty women, good women, owe to the State.”
“The State!” Inarime exclaimed, with a look of surprised indignation. “What do good women, as you say, owe the State more than others?”
Selaka stared at her incredulously. Could this be his child? This young woman, lashed by angry passions, and stinging him in turn by sharp, impertinent speech!
“They owe it the duty to marry and bring up their children befittingly and intelligently.”
“You accept too readily that every good woman is capable of this. It requires, I imagine, special gifts, a special capacity, to bring up children befittingly and intelligently. It is wiser to count on the stupidity and capacity of the average.”