Weaker than a Woman — page 209: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

200 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. “My dear child, we learn patience as we grow older,” said — Lady Chevenix, oravely. But sweet, impulsive Marian would not be satisfied. “T think it is dreadful. Do not be angry with me, Lady Chevenix, please. I have never heard such words before. They have filled me with horror. I cannot bear to think that you listen to them daily, you who ought to hear only sweet, kind, tender words.” “We will forget all about it, Marian,” said Lady Chevenix. “It does not matter; everything comes to an end at last.” But Marian’s heart had been stirred. “ Dear Lady Chevenix,” she went on, “do not think me rude—that which would be rudeness in another is only love inme. Ido love you so dearly, and I cannot bear to hear you spoken to in that fashion. If I were in your place I should run away.” Lady Chevenix smiled. “That would not be of much use,” she said. “I find as the days pass that I cannot run away from my trouble.” Marian stood watching her, with a sad look on her fair young face. “T often .think about you, Lady Chevenix, ” she said. “and I wonder why—pray do not be angry with me—you married Sir Owen; you are so gentle, and he is so much the reverse.” *“ My dear Marian, marriages are made in heaven,” she re- turned, with a slow, sad smile. “Are they? Well, dear Lady Chevenix—do not think me irreverent—if your marriage was made in heaven mine shall be made on earth. I often wonder if I ever shall marry. Do you know that in my short career I have not seen very much happiness in married life? Jam not greatly in love wth it, therefore.” “Tt is like everything else—a lottery and a chance,” said - Lady Chevenix. “T have quite made up my mind what kind of man I should like to marry,” went on Marian. “He must be good, to begin with—clever, distinguished, and handsome, gentle, and yet brave—something like—do not laugh at me, Lady Chevenix—something like Mr. Felix Lonsdale; he is ~ my beau-ideal of a man.” She wondered why Lady Chevenix turned away with a little low ery on her pale Ipis. “You like Mr. Felix Lonsdale, then, Marian?” she said, alter atime. It was a pleasure to talk of him, to utter his comicbooks.com