onvenience a little more than you do--as for Rose, I have no
doubt she'll take care of herself; and whenever she does make a sacrifice
or perform a remarkable act of devotedness, she'll take good care to let
me know the extent of it. But for you I might sink into the grossest
condition of self-indulgence and carelessness about the wants of others,
from the mere habit of being constantly cared for myself, and having all
my wants anticipated or immediately supplied, while left in total
ignorance of what is done for me,--if Rose did not enlighten me now and
then; and I should receive all your kindness as a matter of course, and
never know how much I owe you.'

'Ah! and you never will know, Gilbert, till you're married. Then, when
you've got some trifling, self-conceited girl like Eliza Millward,
careless of everything but her own immediate pleasure and advantage, or
some misguided, obstinate woman, like Mrs. Graham, ignorant of her
principal duties, and clever only in what concerns her least to
know--then you'll find the difference.'

'It will do me good, mother; I was not sent into the world merely to
exercise the good capacities and good feelings of others--was I?--but to
exert my own towards them; and when I marry, I shall expect to find more
pleasure in making my wife happy and comfortable, than in being made so
by her: I would rather give than receive.'

'Oh! that's all nonsense, my dear. It's mere boy's talk that! You'll
soon tire of petting and humouring your wife, be she ever so charming,
and then comes the trial.'

'Well, then, we must bear one another's burdens.'

'Then you must fall each into your proper place. You'll do your
business, and she, if she's worthy of you, will do hers; but it's your
business to please yourself, and hers to please you. I'm sure your poor,
dear father was as good a husband as ever lived, and after the first six
months or so were over, I should as soon have expected him to fly, as to
put himself out of his way to pleasure me. He always said I was a good
wife, and did my duty; and he always did his--bless him!--he was steady
and punctual, seldom found fault without a reason, always did justice to
my good dinners, and hardly ever spoiled my cookery by delay--and that's
as much as any woman can expect of any man.'

Is it so, Halford? Is that the extent of your domestic virtues; and does
your happy wife exact no more?

CHAPTER VII

Not many days after this, on a mi