"I don't know. I can't clear up your doubts. I ponder over similar ones myself sometimes. But, to tell you a secret, if I were convinced that they are necessarily and universally different from us--fickle, soon petrifying, unsympathizing--I would never marry. I should not like to find out that what I loved did not love me, that it was weary of me, and that whatever effort I might make to please would hereafter be worse than useless, since it was inevitably in its nature to change and become indifferent. That discovery once made, what should I long for? To go away, to remove from a presence where my society gave no pleasure."

"I don't know. I can't clear up your doubts. I ponder over similar ones myself sometimes. But if I were convinced they were all hard and unsympathizing, I would never marry. I should not like to find out that what I loved did not love me, and never could despite any effort I might make to please. Once I made that discovery, I would long to go away."
