Monk,--liberal as was Mr.
Turnbull,--could not trust themselves to think that disunion could
be for the good of the Irish. They had taught themselves that it
certainly could not be good for the English. But if it was incumbent
on England to force upon Ireland the maintenance of the Union for her
own sake, and for England's sake, because England could not afford
independence established so close against her own ribs,--it was at
any rate necessary to England's character that the bride thus
bound in a compulsory wedlock should be endowed with all the best
privileges that a wife can enjoy. Let her at least not be a kept
mistress. Let it be bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh, if we
are to live together in the married state. Between husband and
wife a warm word now and then matters but little, if there be a
thoroughly good understanding at bottom. But let there be that good
understanding at bottom. What about this Protestant Church; and what
about this tenant-right? Mr. Monk had been asking himself these
questions for some time past. In regard to the Church, he had long
made up his mind that the Establishment in Ireland was a crying sin.
A man had married a woman whom he knew to be of a religion different
from his own, and then insisted that his wife should say that she
believed those things which he knew very well that she did not
believe.
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