RODERICK HUDSON
was an infamous woman. Heaven knows what she meant unless perhaps only that Mrs. Light makes debts she knows she can't pay. She said the life they led was horrible; that it was monstrous a poor girl should be dragged about the world to be sold to the highest bidder. She was meant for better things; she could be perfectly happy without those dreadfulnesses. It was not money she wanted. I might not believe her, but she really cared for serious things—for the good, the beautiful and the true. Sometimes she thought of taking poison."
"What did you say to that?"
"I recommended her to come and see me instead. I would help her about as much and I was on the whole less unpleasant. Of course I could help her only by letting her talk herself out, and kissing her and patting her beautiful hands, and telling her that if she would be very patient and brave and quiet and clever, and sit very tight—in short exercise all the cardinal virtues—there would be something good for her in the end. About once in two months I expect her to reappear on the same errand, and meanwhile quite to forget my existence. I believe I melted to the point of telling her that I would find her some kind, quiet, respectable husband, and even one with a decent fortune; but she declared, almost with fury, that she was sick of the very name of husbands, which she begged I would never mention again. And in fact it was a rash offer; for I'm sure that there 's not a man of the kind that might really make a woman happy but would be afraid to marry a young person of her particular distinction. Looked
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