"Would it degrade you more to marry her than to make her your companion? To talk with her for hours in preference to all other company? To wish to be endeared to her by still closer ties?" "But all this is not raising her to the rank of my wife." "It is still raising her to that rank for which wives alone were allotted." "You talk wildly! I tell you I love her; but not enough, I hope, to marry her." "But too much, I hope, to undo her?" "That must be her own free choice--I make use of no unwarrantable methods." "What are the warrantable ones?" "I mean, I have made her no false promises; offered no pretended settlement; vowed no eternal constancy." "But you have told her you love her; and, from that confession, has she not reason to expect every protection which even promises could secure?" "I cannot answer for her expectations; but I know if she should make me as happy as I ask, and I should then forsake her, I shall not break my word." "Still she will be deceived, for you will falsify your looks." "Do you think she depends on my looks?" "I have read in some book, _Looks are the lover's sole dependence_." "I have no objection to her interpreting mine in her favour; but then for the consequences she will have herself, and only herself, to blame." "Oh! Heaven!" "What makes you exclaim so vehemently?" "A forcible idea of the bitterness of that calamity which inflicts self- reproach! Oh, rather deceive her; leave her the consolation to reproach _you_ rather than _herself_." "My honour will not suffer me." "Exert your honour, and never see her more." "I cannot live without her." "Then live with her by the laws of your country, and make her and yourself both happy." "Am I to make my father and my mother miserable? They would disown me for such a step." "Your mother, perhaps, might be offended, but your father could not. Remember the sermon he preached but last Sunday, upon--_the shortness of this life_--_contempt of all riches and worldly honours in balance with a quiet conscience_; and the assurance he gave us, _that the greatest happiness enjoyed upon earth was to be found under a humble roof_, _with heaven in prospect_." "My father is a very good man," said William; "and yet, instead of being satisfied with a humble roof, he looks impatiently forward to a bishop's palace." "He is so very good, then," said Henry, "that perhaps, seeing the dangers to which men in exalted stations are exposed, he has such extreme philanthropy, and so little self-love, he would rather that _himself_ should brave those perils incidental to wealth and grandeur than any other person." "You are not yet civilised," said William; "and to argue with you is but to instruct, without gaining instruction."