“I am sure of it,” said Hubert tolerantly. “They don’t know the real import of what they say.” He hugged this sentence with satisfaction.
“They are like the young Russians one reads about in Turgenieff’s novels,” said Henriette—“all ideas, no common-sense.”
“And you really believe——?”
Henriette’s hand was laid comfortingly on her brother’s arm.
“Dear Hubert, I know something of my sex. After a year of married life, a woman has too many cares and responsibilities to trouble about ideas of this kind, or of any other.”
“She strikes me as being somewhat persistent by nature,” said Hubert, choosing a gentler word than obstinate to describe the quality in the lady of his affections.
“Let her be as persistent as she may, it is not possible for any woman to resist the laws and beliefs of Society. What can she do against all the world? She can’t escape from the conditions of her epoch. Oh! she may talk boldly now, for she does not understand; she is a mere infant as regards knowledge of the world, but once a wife——”
Henriette smiled and shook her head, by way of finish to her sentence. Hubert mused silently for some minutes.
“I could not endure that there should be any disturbance—any eccentricity—in our life——”
“My dear boy, if you don’t trust to the teaching of experience to cure Hadria of these fantastic notions, rely upon the resistless persuasions of our social facts and laws. Nothing can stand against them—certainly not the fretful heresies of an inexperienced girl, who, remember, is really good and kind at heart.”