It is further observable, and a very material point too, that Helena seems to think the better of Bertram for his behaviour towards her:  she takes it as evidence at least of honesty in him, and of a certain downrightness of character, that shrinks from a life of appearances, and knows not how to affect what he does not feel.  So far from blaming his indifference, she rather blames herself as having brought him into a false position.  She loves him simply because she cannot help it; she wants him to love her for the same reason; and the point she aims at is so to act and be and appear, that he cannot help loving her.  She knows right well that the choice must be mutual, else marriage is rather a sacrilege than a sacrament; and the great question is, how she may win him to reciprocate her choice:  nothing less than this will suffice her; and she justly takes it as her part to inspire him with the feeling, understanding perfectly that neither talk nor force can be of any use to that end.  Even a love that springs from a sense of duty is not what she wants:  her own love did not spring from that source.  So she “would not have him till she does deserve him,” yet knows not how that desert should ever be:  still she cannot put off the faith that love will sooner or later triumph, if worthily shown by deeds.  He is much noted as a fine instance of manly beauty:  all are taken with his handsome person.  It is not, probably ought not to be, in womanhood, to be proof against such attractions.  In the sweetness of their youthful intercourse, this has silently got the mastery of her thoughts, and penetrated her being through and through: 

             “Twas pretty, though a plague,
    To see him every hour; to sit and draw
    His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
    In our heart’s table.”

And now she must needs strive with all her might, by loving ways, by kind acts, by self-sacrificing works, to catch his heart, as he has caught hers.  Then too a holy instinct of womanhood teaches her that a man must be hard indeed, to resist the wedded mother of his children, and most of all, to keep his heart untouched by the power of a wife when burdened with a mother’s precious wealth.  Therewithal she rightly apprehends the danger Bertram is in from the wordy, cozening squirt, the bedizened, scoundrelly dandiprat, who has so beguiled his youth and ignorance.  She must bless and sweeten him out of that contagion into the religion of home; and she feels that nothing but an honourable love of herself can save him.  This she aims at, and finally accomplishes.