“Who can say that she does not love him?” cried the lady. “Oh, my dear Dr. Goldsmith, a young woman is herself the worst judge in all the world of whether or not she loves one particular man. I give you my word, sir, I was married for five years before I knew that I loved my husband. When I married him I know that I was under the impression that I actually disliked him. Marriages are made in heaven, they say, and very properly, for heaven only knows whether a woman really loves a man, and a man a woman. Neither of the persons in the contract is capable of pronouncing a just opinion on the subject.” “I think that Mary should know what is in her own heart.” “Alas! alas! I fear for her. It is because I fear for her I am desirous of seeing her married to a good man--a man with whom her future happiness would be assured. You have talked of her heart, my friend; alas! that is just why I fear for her. I know how her heart dominates her life and prevents her from exercising her judgment. A girl who is ruled by her heart is in a perilous way. I wonder if she told you what her uncle, with whom she was sojourning in Devonshire, told me about her meeting a certain man there--my brother did not make me acquainted with his name--and being so carried away with some plausible story he told that she actually fancied herself in love with him--actually, until my brother, learning that the man was a disreputable fellow, put a stop to an affair that could only have had a disastrous ending. Ah! her heart----” “Yes, she told me all that. Undoubtedly she is dominated by her heart.” “That is, I repeat, why I tremble for her future. If she were to meet at some time, when perhaps I might not be near her, another adventurer like the fellow whom she met in Devonshire, who can say that she would not fancy she loved him? What disaster might result! Dear friend, would you desire to save her from the fate of your Olivia?” There was a long pause before he said-- “Madam, I will do as you ask me. I will go to Mary and endeavour to point out to her that it is her duty to marry Colonel Gwyn.” “I knew you would grant my request, my dear, dear friend,” cried the mother, catching his hand and pressing it. “But I would ask of you not to put the proposal to her quite in that way. To suggest that a girl with a heart should marry a particular man because her duty lies in that direction would be foolishness itself. Duty? The word is abhorrent to the ear of a young woman whose heart is ripe for love.” “You are a woman.” “I am one indeed; I know what are a woman's thoughts--her longings--her hopes--and alas! her self-deceptions. A woman's heart--ah, Dr. Goldsmith, you once put into a few lines the whole tragedy of a woman's life. What experience was it urged you to write those lines?-- 'When lovely woman stoops to folly. And finds too late. . .'