“There is some truth, Forrester, in the distinction, and I have thought so before.  I am persuaded that the gentler sex is far less given to deceit than our own; but their opinions and feelings, on the other hand, are formed with infinitely more frequency and facility, and are more readily acted upon by passing and occasional influences.  Their very susceptibility to the most light and casual impressions, is, of itself, calculated to render vacillating their estimate of things and characters.  They are creatures of such delicate construction, and their affections are of such like character, that, like all fine machinery they are perpetually operated on by the atmosphere, the winds, the dew, and the night.  The frost blights and the sun blisters; and a kind or stern accent elevates or depresses, where, with us, it might pass unheeded or unheard.

“We are more cunning—­more shy and cautious; and seldom, after a certain age, let our affections out of our own custody.  We learn very soon in life—­indeed, we are compelled to learn, in our own defence, at a very early period—­to go into the world as if we were going into battle.  We send out spies, keep sentinels on duty, man our defences, carry arms in our bosoms, which we cover with a buckler, though, with the policy of a court, we conceal that in turn with a silken and embroidered vestment.  We watch every erring thought—­we learn to be equivocal of speech; and our very hearts, as the Indians phrase it, are taught to speak their desires with a double tongue.  We are perpetually on the lookout for enemies and attack; we dread pitfalls and circumventions, and we feel that every face which we encounter is a smiling deceit—­every honeyed word a blandishment meant to betray us.  These are lessons which society, as at present constituted, teaches of itself.

“With women the case is essentially different.  They have few of these influences to pervert and mislead.  They have nothing to do in the market-place—­they are not candidates for place or power—­they have not the ambition which is always struggling for state and for self; but, with a wisdom in this, that might avail us wonderfully in all other respects, they are kept apart, as things for love and worship—­domestic divinities, whose true altar-place is the fireside; whose true sway is over fond hearts, generous sensibilities, and immaculate honor.  Where should they learn to contend with guile—­to acquire cunning and circumspection—­to guard the heart—­to keep sweet affections locked up coldly, like mountain waters?  Shall we wonder that they sometimes deceive themselves rather than their neighbors—­that they sometimes misapprehend their own feelings, and mistake for love some less absorbing intruder, who but lights upon the heart for a single instant, as a bird upon his spray, to rest or to plume his pinions, and be off with the very next zephyr.  But all this is wide of the mark, Forrester, and keeps you from your story.”