Chapter 18 - Page 2

failure, I have always admitted to myself that I
should marry again. A bachelor is a man who shirks
responsibilities and duties; I seek them, and consider it my
duty, with my monstrous superfluity of means, not to let the
individualists outbreed me. Still, I was in no hurry, having
other things to occupy me, and being fond of my bachelor freedom,
and doubtful sometimes whether I had any right to bring more
idlers into the world for the workers to feed. Then came the
usual difficulty about the lady. I did not want a helpmeet; I can
help myself. Nor did I expect to be loved devotedly, for the race
has not yet evolved a man lovable on thorough acquaintance; even
my self-love is neither thorough nor constant. I wanted a genial
partner for domestic business, and Agatha struck me quite
suddenly as being the nearest approach to what I desired that I
was likely to find in the marriage market, where it is extremely
hard to suit oneself, and where the likeliest bargains are apt to
be snapped up by others if one hesitates too long in the hope of
finding something better. I admire Agatha's courage and
capability, and believe I shall be able to make her like me, and
that the attachment so begun may turn into as close a union as is
either healthy or necessary between two separate individuals. I
may mistake her character, for I do not know her as I know you,
and have scarcely enough faith in her as yet to tell her such
things as I have told you. Still, there is a consoling dash of
romance in the transaction. Agatha has charm. Do you not think
so?"

Gertrude's emotion was gone. She replied with cool scorn, "Very
romantic indeed. She is very fortunate."

Trefusis half laughed, half sighed with relief to find her so
self-possessed. "It sounds like--and indeed is--the selfish
calculation of a disilluded widower. You would not value such an
offer, or envy the recipient of it?"

"No," said Gertrude with quiet contempt.

"Yet there is some calculation behind every such offer. We marry
to satisfy our needs, and the more reasonable our needs are, the
more likely are we to get them satisfied. I see you are disgusted
with me; I feared as much. You are the sort of woman to admit no
excuse for my marriage except love--pure emotional love,
blindfolding reason."

"I really do not concern myself--"

"Do not say so, Gertrude. I watch every step you take with
anxiety; and I do not believe you are indifferent to the
worthiness of my conduct. Believe me, love is an overrated
passion; it would be irremediably discredited but that young
people, and the romancers who live upon their follies, have a
perpetual interest in rehabilitating it. No relation involving
divided duties and continual