'He is so disinterested and kind to offer me all that I can desire,' Bathsheba said, musingly. Yet Farmer Boldwood, whether by nature kind or the reverse to kind, did not exercise kindness here.
The rarest offerings of the purest loves are but a self-indulgence, and no generosity at all. Bathsheba, not being the least in love with him, was eventually able to look calmly at his offer.
It was one which many women of her own station in the neighbourhood, and not a few of higher rank, would have been wild to accept and proud to publish.
In every point of view, ranging from politic to passionate, it was desirable that she, a lonely girl, should marry, and marry this earnest, well-to-do, and respected man. He was close to her doors: his standing was sufficient: his qualities were even supererogatory.
Had she felt, which she did not, any wish whatever for the married state in the abstract, she could not reasonably have rejected him as a woman who frequently appealed to her understanding for deliverance from her whims.
Boldwood as a means to marriage was unexceptionable: she esteemed and liked him: yet she did not want him.
It appears that men take wives because possession is not possible without marriage, and that women accept husbands because marriage is not possible without possession; with totally differing aims the method is the same on both sides. But the understood incentive on the woman’s part was wanting here.
Besides, Bathsheba’s position as absolute mistress of a farm and house was a novel one, and the novelty had not yet begun to wear off. But a disquiet filled her which was somewhat to her credit, for it would have affected few.
Beyond the mentioned reasons with which she combated her objections, she had