ut in his
way. Would it not have been good to give him proof of constancy through
long months of waiting? But the secret was that I dreaded to lose him.
I reproached him for want of faith in my steadfastness; but just as
well he might have reproached me. It was horrible to think of his going
back into the world and living among people of whom I knew nothing. I
knew in some degree what his life had been; by force of passionate love
I understood, or thought I understood him; and I feared most ignobly.

"And I was putting myself in opposition to all those older and more
experienced people. How could I help distrusting myself at times? I saw
them all looking coldly and reproachfully at me. Here again my pride
had something to say. They would smile among themselves, and tell each
other that they had held a mistakenly high opinion of me. That was hard
to bear. I like to be thought much of; it is delicious to feel that
people respect me, that they apply other judgments to me than to girls
in general. Mr. Mallard hurt me more than he thought in pretending--I
feel sure he only pretended--to regard my words as trivial. How it
rejoices me that there are some things I know better than my husband
does! I have read of women liking to humble themselves, and in a way I
can understand it; I do like to _say_ that he is far above me--oh! and
I mean it, I believe it; but the joy of joys is to see him look at me
with admiration. I rejoice that I have beauty; I rejoice that I have
read much, and can think for myself now and then, and sometimes say a
thing 'that every one would not think of. Suppose I were an uneducated
girl, not particularly good-looking, and a man loved me; well, in that
case perhaps the one joy would be mere worship of him and intense
gratitude--blind belief in his superiority to every other man that
lived. But then Reuben would never have loved me; he must have
something to admire, to stand a little in awe of. And for this very
reason, perhaps I feel such constant--self-esteem, for that is the only
word."...

"All the doubts and fears are over. I acted rightly, and because I
obeyed my passion. The poets are right, and all the prudent people only
grovel in their worldly wisdom. It may not be true for every one, but
for me to love and be loved, infinitely, with the love that conquers
everything, is the sole end of life. It is enough; come what will, if
love remain nothing else is missed. In the direst poverty, we should