But in spite of this amiable delusion, in spite of the desire to forget the love she would have in the love she might have, and in spite of the great improvement in her faithful Philip, Christie could not blind herself to the fact that her head, rather than her heart, advised the match; she could not conquer a suspicion that, however much Mr. Fletcher might love his wife, he would be something of a tyrant, and she was very sure she never would make a good slave. In her cooler moments she remembered that men are not puppets, to be moved as a woman’s will commands, and the uncertainty of being able to carry out her charitable plans made her pause to consider whether she would not be selling her liberty too cheaply, if in return she got only dependence and bondage along with fortune and a home.
So tempted and perplexed, self-deluded and self-warned, attracted and repelled, was poor Christie, that she began to feel as if she had got into a labyrinth without any clew to bring her safely out. She longed to ask advice of some one, but could not turn to Mrs. Sterling; and what other woman friend had she except Rachel, from whom she had not heard for months?
As she asked herself this question one day, feeling sure that Mr. Fletcher would come in the evening, and would soon put his fortune to the touch again, the thought of Mrs. Wilkins seemed to answer her.
“Why not?” said Christie: “she is sensible, kind, and discreet; she may put me right, for I’m all in a tangle now with doubts and fears, feelings and fancies. I’ll go and see her: that will do me good, even if I don’t say a word about my ‘werryments,’ as the dear soul would call them.”
Away she went, and fortunately found her friend alone in the “settin’-room,” darning away at a perfect stack of socks, as she creaked comfortably to and fro in her old rocking-chair.
“I was jest wishin’ somebody would drop in: it’s so kinder lonesome with the children to school and Adelaide asleep. How be you, dear?” said Mrs. Wilkins, with a hospitable hug and a beaming smile.
“I’m worried in my mind, so I came to see you,” answered Christie, sitting down with a sigh.
“Bless your dear heart, what is to pay. Free your mind, and I’ll do my best to lend a hand.”
The mere sound of that hearty voice comforted Christie, and gave her courage to introduce the little fiction under which she had decided to defraud Mrs. Wilkins of her advice. So she helped herself to a very fragmentary blue sock and a big needle, that she might have employment for her eyes, as they were not so obedient as her tongue, and then began in as easy a tone as she could assume.
“Well, you see a friend of mine wants my advice on a very serious matter, and I really don’t know what to give her. It is strictly confidential, you know, so I won’t mention any names, but just set the case before you and get your opinion, for I’ve great faith in your sensible way of looking at things.”