“Well, ladies!” cried the modern Griselda, “what do you think of this?”
Shrill exclamations of various vehemence expressed with one accord the sentiments, or rather feelings, of almost all the married ladies who were present.
“Abominable! Intolerable! Insufferable! Horrible! I would rather have seen the man perish at my feet; I would rather have died: I would have remained unmarried all my life rather than have submitted to such terms.”
A few young unmarried ladies who had not spoken, or who had not been heard to speak in the din of tongues, were appealed to by the gentlemen next them. They could not be prevailed upon to pronounce any distinct opinion: they qualified, and hesitated, and softened, and equivocated, and “were not positively able to judge, for really they had never thought upon the subject.”
Upon the whole, however, it was evident that they did not betray that natural horror which pervaded the more experienced matrons. All agreed that the terms were “hard terms,” and ill expressed: some added, that only love could persuade a woman to submit to them: and some still more sentimental maidens, in a lower voice, were understood to say, that as nothing is impossible to Cupid, they might be induced to such submission; but that it must be by a degree of love which they solemnly declared they had never felt or could imagine as yet.
“For my part,” cried the modern Griselda, “I would sooner have lived an old maid to the days of Methusalem than have been so mean as to have married any man on earth upon such terms. But I know there are people who can never think ‘marriage dear-bought.’ My dear Mrs. Granby, we have not yet heard your opinion, and we should have had yours first, as bride.”
“I forgot that I was bride,” said Emma.
“Forgot! Is it possible?” cried Mrs. Nettleby: “now this is an excess of modesty of which I have no notion.”
“But for which Mr. Granby,” continued our heroine, turning to Mr. Granby, who at this moment entered the room, “ought to make his best bow. Here is your lady, sir, who has just assured us that she forgot she was a bride: bow to this exquisite humility.”
“Exquisite vanity!” cried Mr. Granby; “she knows