I advise you to pass through New
York incognito on your way to Washington; their attentions might be
oppressive.
_Warland_. Confoundedly oppressive. What a dog's life it is! My poor
Isabel--
_Isabel_. Don't pity me. I didn't marry yon for a home.
_Warland (after a pause_). What _did_ you marry me for, if you cared for
Oberville? _(Another pause_.) Eh?
_Isabel_, Don't make me regret my confidence.
_Warland_. I beg your pardon.
_Isabel_. Oh, it was only a subterfuge to conceal the fact that I have no
distinct recollection of my reasons. The fact is, a girl's motives in
marrying are like a passport--apt to get mislaid. One is so seldom asked
for either. But mine certainly couldn't have been mercenary: I never heard
a mother praise you to her daughters.
_Warland_. No, I never was much of a match.
_Isabel_. You impugn my judgment.
_Warland_. If I only had a head for business, now, I might have done
something by this time. But I'd sooner break stones in the road.
_Isabel_. It must be very hard to get an opening in that profession. So
many of my friends have aspired to it, and yet I never knew any one who
actually did it.
_Warland_. If I could only get the secretaryship. How that kind of life
would suit you! It's as much for you that I want it--
_Isabel_. And almost as much for the butcher. Don't belittle the circle of
your benevolence. (_She walks across the room_.) Three o'clock already--
and Marian asked me to give orders about the carriages.
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