It would have been impossible for her to marry a man whom personally she disliked; but she liked her cousin George,--well enough, as she said to herself almost indifferently.
Upon the whole it was a grievous task to her in these days,--this having to do something with her life. Was it not all vain and futile? As for that girl's dream of the joys of love which she had once dreamed,--that had gone from her slumbers, never to return. How might she best make herself useful,--useful in some sort that might gratify her ambition;--that was now the question which seemed to her to be of most importance.
Her cousin's letter to her had been very crafty. He had studied the whole of her character accurately as he wrote it. When he had sat down to write it he had been indifferent to the result; but he had written it with that care to attain success which a man uses when he is anxious not to fail in an attempt. Whether or no he cared to marry his cousin was a point so little interesting to him that chance might decide it for him; but when chance had decided that he did wish it, it was necessary for his honour that he should have that for which he condescended to ask.

She could not marry a man whom she disliked, but she liked her cousin George well enough, as she said to herself almost indifferently.
It was a grievous task to her these days - this having to do something with her life. Was it not all futile? As for her earlier dream of the joys of love - that had gone, never to return. How she could make herself useful in some way that might gratify her ambition; that was now the question which seemed most important.
Her cousin's letter to her had been very crafty. He had considered her character, and had written it with care. Whether he cared to marry his cousin was a point of so little interest to him that he left it to chance; but once chance had decided that he did wish it, it was necessary for his honour that he should get what he wanted.
