.“IdoeverythingIcantomakeyoulovemeandIcan’t.Ifyou’reastockandastone,howcanIteachyoutobethepassionatelover?IwantyoutolovemeasIloveyou.”
“Well,ifyouaskmeformyopinionIshouldsayitwasratheragoodjobIdon’t.Why,thefurniturewouldbesmashedupinaweek,ifIwereasviolentasyou.”
“Ishouldn’tmindifyouwereviolentifyoulovedme,”repliedBertha,takinghisremarkwithvehementseriousness.“Ishouldn’tcareifyoubeatmeIshouldnotmindhowmuchyouhurtme,ifyoudiditbecauseyoulovedme.”
“Ithinkaweekofitwouldaboutsickenyouofthatsortoflove,mydear.”
“Anythingwouldbepreferabletoyourindifference.”
“ButGodblessmysoul,I’mnotindifferent.AnyonewouldthinkIdidn’tcareforyou—orwasgoneonsomeotherwoman.”
“Ialmostwishyouwere,”answeredBertha.“Ifyoulovedanyoneatall,Imighthavesomehopeofgainingyouraffection—butyou’reincapableoflove.”
“Idon’tknowaboutthat.IcansaytrulythatafterGodandmyhonour,Itreasurenothingintheworldsomuchasyou.”
“You’veforgottenyourhunter,”criedBertha,scornfully.
“No,Ihaven’t,”answeredEdward,withacertaingravity.
“WhatdoyouthinkIcareforapositionlikethat?YouacknowledgethatIamthird—Iwouldassoonbenowhere.”
“Icouldnotloveyouhalfsomuch,lovedInothonourmore,”misquotedEdward.
“Themanwasaprigwhowrotethat.IwanttobeplacedaboveyourGodandaboveyourhonour.TheloveIwantistheloveofthemanwhowillloseeverything,evenhisownsoul,forthesakeofawoman.”
Edwardshruggedhisshoulders.“Idon’tknowwhereyou’llgetthat.Myideaofloveisthatit’saverygoodthinginitsplace—butthere’salimittoeverything.Thereareotherthingsinlife.”
“Ohyes,Iknow—there’sdutyandhonour,andthefarm,andfox-hunting,andtheopinionofone’sneighbours,andthedogsandthecat,andthenewbrougham,andamillionotherthings....Whatdoyousupposeyou’ddoifIhadcommittedsomecrimeandwerelikelytobeimprisoned?”
“Idon’twanttosupposeanythingofthesort.YoumaybesureI’ddomyduty.”
“Oh,I’msickofyourduty.Youdinitintomyearsmorning,noon,andnight.IwishtoGodyouweren’tsovirtuous—youmightbemorehuman.”
Edwardfoundhiswife