'Consent, then, to his demand is possible: but for one item—one dreadful
item. It is—that he asks me to be his wife, and has no more of a
husband's heart for me than that frowning giant of a rock, down which
the stream is foaming in yonder gorge. He prizes me as a soldier would a
good weapon; and that is all. Unmarried to him, this would never grieve
me; but can I let him complete his calculations—coolly put into practice
his plans—go through the wedding ceremony? Can I receive from him the
bridal ring, endure all the forms of love (which I doubt not he would
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Emma1