“My dear Lucy, you are very young; you do not know what you are about; of course, in marrying, your idea is not to be merely an old,—a middle-aged man’s, play-thing. You owe it to yourself, to the station you will hold in society, I may almost add to Lord Montreville himself, not to be a mere cipher, but to be an independent and a reasonable person—a free agent. And, depend upon it, if you begin in this manner, you will never be able to rescue yourself from any thraldom in which he may wish to keep you. Every thing depends on the first start—I know it—and so did Sir Charles’s old French valet, for when we got into our carriage on the wedding-day, I had my beautiful in-laid India work-box, which you know is rather large, and I overheard old Le Clerc whisper to his master, ‘Sire Charles, Sire Charles—you band-box to-day, you band-box all your life!’ Sir Charles accordingly complained of the size of the box, and begged me to let the servant take care of it behind, but I felt, if I yielded then, I was undone. I explained to him the value I had for this particular box, and that it would break my heart to have it spoiled: and he saw I was so hurt at the idea of its being scratched or injured, that he gave up the point. Indeed, I must say, I have always found him very reasonable, and it is quite impossible for two people to go on better together. I never think of opposing his wishes when I am indifferent upon a subject. He knows, therefore, my anxiety to oblige him, and so he never thwarts me when he sees I am determined on any thing. Depend upon it, Lucy, if you begin in this manner before marriage, you will be no better than a slave after marriage.” Sophy always had such a flow of words, and such a multitude of good arguments to adduce, that Lucy knew it was useless to dispute with her; besides, she was older, and she was a married woman, and she always was the cleverest; and Lucy was more than half persuaded there was a good deal of truth in what she said. Accordingly, she showed Milly the gauzes as she was dressing for dinner, and promulgated her intention of having a gown of the pink one. “La, Miss!” said Milly, “I thought my Lord did not like pink, and that he made you send back the pink hat.” “Yes, but do you not think it is great nonsense to let one’s husband interfere about such trifles? What can it signify to him whether I wear pink or blue?” “I don’t know, Miss, as it can signify much to anybody; but I should think it signified more to him than to anybody else.” “But this is to be a smart gown to wear in company, and not at home with him.” “But sure, Miss Lucy, you don’t want to look well in any body’s eyes more than in your own husband’s.” “That is very true,” thought Lucy; “it would be very wrong to wish to be admired by other people, and not by one’s husband.”