How different men were to women! Here was she disturbed and unhappy, because her instinct had made anything but a refusal impossible; while he, not many minutes after he had met with a rejection of what ought to have been the deepest, holiest proposal of his life, could speak as if briefs, success, and all its superficial consequences of a good house, clever and agreeable society, were the sole avowed objects of his desires. Oh dear! how she could have loved him if he had but been different, with a difference which she felt, on reflection, to be one that went low--deep down. Then she took it into her head that, after all, his lightness might be but assumed, to cover a bitterness of disappointment which would have been stamped on her own heart if she had loved and been rejected.
Her mother came into the room before this whirl of thoughts was adjusted into anything like order. Margaret had to shake off the recollections of what had been done and said through the day, and turn a sympathising listener to the account of how Dixon had complained that the ironing-blanket had been burnt again; and how Susan Lightfoot had been seen with artificial flowers in her bonnet, thereby giving evidence of a vain and giddy character. Mr. Hale sipped his tea in abstracted silence; Margaret had the responses all to herself. She wondered how her father and mother could be so forgetful, so regardless of their companion through the day, as never to mention his name. She forgot that he had not made them an offer.

How different men were to women! Here was she disturbed and unhappy, because her instinct had made her refuse him; while he, not many minutes after a rejection of what ought to have been the holiest proposal of his life, could speak as if law briefs, success, and agreeable society were the sole objects of his desires. Oh dear! how she could have loved him if he had only been different. Then she thought that, after all, his lightness might have been assumed to cover the bitter disappointment which would have been stamped on her own heart if she had loved and been rejected.
Her mother came in before this whirl of thoughts was adjusted into anything like order. Margaret had to shake off her recollections, and listen sympathetically to the account of Dixon's complaints about the ironing, and how Susan Lightfoot had been seen with artificial flowers in her bonnet. Mr. Hale sipped his tea in abstracted silence; Margaret had the responses all to herself. She wondered how her father and mother could be so regardless of Mr. Lennox's visit as never to mention his name. She forgot that he had not made them an offer.
