"We are discoursing very philosophically, and will be charitable enough to believe that numerous couples are similarly engaged."
"Do you recollect Talleyrand's definition of speech?" inquired Ida.
"'A faculty whereby we conceal our thoughts'—yes—a sentence worthy of its author. What a life this would be if we were all Talleyrands!"
"We are—according to our capacities," said Ida.
"A singular sentiment for one of your age and sex!" replied Mr. Lacy, with a searching look. "Has the world served you so unkindly, that you condemn your kind without reservation?"
"There was a mental reservation; yet my observation was true in a general sense. Men live for themselves;—it is humiliating to see how this principle regulates feeling and action. We love our friends because they are ours;—the pronoun 'my' expresses a nearness and sweetness which causes us to idolize the thing we appropriate;—'my own' is the most endearing of appellations—what is the delight it inspires, but the grossest vanity and selfishness?"
"Pardon me, that I differ with you. Our love is won by the qualities of its object;—there would be no pleasure in appropriation were not our affections enlisted;—no thrill of joy in identifying with ourselves, the unknown or unlovely;—if forced upon us, dislike would ensue. We become attached to our dear ones for their own sakes; although it cannot be denied, that a knowledge of a reciprocation of affection is an auxiliary to the growth of that fondness."
"And do you honestly credit the disinterestedness of human nature?"
"I do—in many instances, and so do you. Look at the benefactors of mankind—a Howard, preferring the noisome prison-cell to competence and home;—a Wilberforce, spending and spent in the great work;—the missionaries of the cross, at this moment scattered in all lands, cut off from friends and civilization, without prospect of emolument or renown; forgotten, it may be, by all but Him, in whose strength they labor; where is the self-interest in this?"
"Your last is a puzzling case. The theory I have advanced, perhaps too boldly, was not of my own choosing. I was compelled to its adoption by evidence which seemed incontestable, and I retain it because it solves more riddles in the complex machinery of society than any other I have heard. But it has its difficulties, and the main one is such conduct as you allude to. There is a key to the enigma, I suppose, if I could only find it."