“To suffer, Jane, requires a more enduring courage than to act; and in patient suffering the high constancy of woman’s mind hath ever shone most purely:—for the wives of England bitter trials are coming—ours will be light to theirs; and yours, dear girl, as you well know, less heavy than even mine.”
“Katharine, you do not know my trial, or you would not speak thus:—not a faithful and suffering wife in all England but I shall envy her the sweetness of her sufferings: it is in storms that we cling most closely to what we love.”
“True, fond girl, but remember that they may also divide us from what we love. Still there is a sweet truth in your melancholy words: I think you would be happy united to such a man as Juxon. He is evidently much attached to you; and I think you are not indifferent to him.”
“Cousin, he is worthy of a better fortune. He never can be mine.”
“What is the meaning of that strong emphasis? Is, then, the secret of your sorrow a concealed attachment to another?”
“Katharine, you see not clearly in this matter; I am pitied by Juxon, not loved.”
“I know not, dear Jane, for what he should pity you; but pity is akin to love.”
“And also to contempt:—Juxon despises me: yes, the pity of one so generous and noble hearted is heavy to bear.”
“Impossible! he knows your sterling worth; he knows that you could not do what was wrong: you utter many things that are idle; but I have heard him warmly express his regard for your frank character; his faith in your high principles, and his fear that you judged others by yourself, and might in the trials of life prove too confiding towards others.”