Mrs. Howard and Mr. Morrison had heard part of the conversation about the wedding, and the first that reached Edda’s ears were Mr. Morrison’s severe, caustic remarks.
“Silly, senseless fools!” he exclaimed. “They talk as if life had but two points to attain; to get married in an India robe, in such a style as to produce a fine theatrical effect, and to go to Europe. What right have such idiots to get married at all? What do they know of the realities of married life—the holy, sacred obligations of marriage?”
“Very little, it is true,” answered his companion; “and this ignorance is wisely ordered! for I am afraid, Mr. Morrison, if these young, thoughtless creatures knew the one half of life’s stern realities, whether married or unmarried, they would sooner lie down and die than encounter them. Youth is as hopeless in trouble as it is thoughtless in prosperity.”
“Very true, madam, very true,” said the old gentleman; “but it seems to me that these frivolous creatures might be taught a little—enough to give them some ballast. What sort of wives will they make? Why, I declare it makes me shudder when I see these silly, thoughtless wretches entering into marriage as they would into a dance—not displaying half the anxiety that a man would on entering into a commercial engagement that can be dissolved at will after a certain season.”
“Well,” said the lady, with a sweet, low laugh, “from what we see on all sides, my dear sir, a great many of those who marry at the present day seem to regard marriage only as a mere partnership, to be dissolved at will.”
“I would pretty soon put an end to that divorce business, madam,” said Mr. Morrison, “if I had the power. Every couple that could not live happily together, and wished to be separated, should have their request granted, but on one condition—that both, particularly the woman, should go into some religious asylum, and spend the rest of their days in entire seclusion, employed constantly in the performance of strict religious duties and works of charity.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the lady, laughing outright, “I am very sure any husband and wife would prefer the most inharmonious intercourse to such an alternative.”
“Well, well,” said Mr. Morrison, “they could have their choice, and it would teach others to be more careful how they ‘married in haste to repent at leisure.’ This is becoming a curse to society; on all sides we see husbands and wives disagreeing. Now-a-days a wife must spend as much money as she pleases, lead a dissipated life—for going to parties and balls, and every other gay place, constantly is dissipation—entertain admirers, and her husband must not complain. He, poor devil—beg pardon, madam—must not express a wish for a quiet home and a companion, after the toil of the day and the wear and tear of exciting, perilous business. Oh, no! If he does madam will leave him in a huff, and he may whistle for a wife, and life is a wreck to him ever afterward.”