lace for
repentance; yet, for the most part, woman's resolve upon such matters is
more stable than man's, and that because the interests at stake in
marriage are for her more vital than can ever be the case with man.

It was to the class of indifferentists that Anastasia belonged; she
neither sought nor shunned a change of state, but regarded marriage as
an accident that, in befalling her, might substantially change the
outlook. It would render a life of teaching, no doubt, impossible;
domestic or maternal cares might to some extent trammel even literary
activity (for, married or not married, she was determined to fulfil her
mission of writing), but in no case was she inclined to regard marriage
as an escape from difficulties, as the solution of so trivial a problem
as that of existence.

She read Westray's letter once more from beginning to end. It was
duller than ever. It reflected its writer; she had always thought him
unromantic, and now he seemed to her intolerably prosaic, conceited,
pettifogging, utilitarian. To be his wife! She had rather slave as a
nursery-governess all her life! And how could she write fiction with
such a one for mentor and company? He would expect her to be methodic,
to see that eggs were fresh, and beds well aired. So, by thinking, she
reasoned herself into such a theoretic reprobation of this attempt upon
her, that his offer became a heinous crime. If she answered him
shortly, brusquely, nay rudely, it would be but what he deserved for
making her ridiculous to herself by so absurd a proposal, and she opened
her writing-case with much firmness and resolution.

It was a little wooden case covered in imitation leather, with
_Papeterie_ stamped in gold upon the top. She had no exaggerated
notions as to its intrinsic worth, but it was valuable in her eyes as
being a present from her father. It was, in fact, the only gift he ever
had bestowed upon her; but on this he had expended at least half a
crown, in a fit of unusual generosity when he sent her with a great
flourish of trumpets to Mrs Howard's school at Carisbury. She
remembered his very words. "Take this, child," he said; "you are now
going to a first-class place of education, and it is right that you
should have a proper equipment," and so gave her the _papeterie_. It
had to cover a multitude of deficiencies, and poor Anastasia
lamented that it had not been a new hair-brush, half a dozen
pocket-handkerchiefs, or even a sou