“No, from observation. Your most delicate women are always the greatest hypocrites; and, in my opinion, no hypocrite can or ought to be happy.”
“But you have not proved the hypocrisy,” said Belinda. “Delicacy is not, I hope, an indisputable proof of it? If you mean false delicacy——”
“To cut the matter short at once,” cried Mrs. Freke, “why, when a woman likes a man, does not she go and tell him so honestly?”
Belinda, surprised by this question from a woman, was too much abashed instantly to answer.
“Because she’s a hypocrite. That is and must be the answer.”
“No,” said Mr. Percival; “because, if she be a woman of sense, she knows that by such a step she would disgust the object of her affection.”
“Cunning!—cunning!—cunning!—the arms of the weakest.”
“Prudence! prudence!—the arms of the strongest. Taking the best means to secure our own happiness without injuring that of others is the best proof of sense and strength of mind, whether in man or woman. Fortunately for society, the same conduct in ladies which best secures their happiness most increases ours.”
Mrs. Freke beat the devil’s tattoo for some moments, and then exclaimed, “You may say what you will, but the present system of society is radically wrong:—whatever is, is wrong.”
“How would you improve the state of society?” asked Mr. Percival, calmly.