d and disconcerted. In my previous reasonings I had certainly
considered her sex as utterly unfitting her for those scenes and
pursuits to which I had destined myself. Not a doubt of the validity of
my conclusion had insinuated itself; but now my belief was shaken,
though it was not subverted. I could not deny that human ignorance was
curable by the same means in one sex as in the other; that fortitude
and skill were of no less value to one than to the other.

Questionless, my friend was rendered, by her age and inexperience, if
not by sex, more helpless and dependent than I; but had I not been prone
to overrate the difficulties which I should encounter? Had I not deemed
unjustly of her constancy and force of mind? Marriage would render her
property joint, and would not compel me to take up my abode in the
woods, to abide forever in one spot, to shackle my curiosity, or limit
my excursions.

But marriage was a contract awful and irrevocable. Was this the woman
with whom my reason enjoined me to blend my fate, without the power of
dissolution? Would not time unfold qualities in her which I did not at
present suspect, and which would evince an incurable difference in our
minds? Would not time lead me to the feet of one who more nearly
approached that standard of ideal excellence which poets and romancers
had exhibited to my view?

These considerations were powerful and delicate. I knew not in what
terms to state them to my companion, so as to preclude the imputation of
arrogance or indecorum. It became me, however, to be explicit, and to
excite her resentment rather than mislead her judgment. She collected my
meaning from a few words, and, interrupting me, said,--

"How very low is the poor Eliza in your opinion! We are, indeed, both
too young to be married. May I not see you, and talk with you, without
being your wife? May I not share your knowledge, relieve your cares, and
enjoy your confidence, as a sister might do? May I not accompany you in
your journeys and studies, as one friend accompanies another? My
property may be yours; you may employ it for your benefit and mine; not
because you are my husband, but my friend. You are going to the city.
Let me go along with you. Let me live where you live. The house that is
large enough to hold you will hold me. The fare that is good enough for
you will be luxury to me. Oh! let it be so, will you?

"You cannot think how studious, how thoughtful, how inquisitive, I will
be