Gerald monologue (Act 3) — The New Woman: An Original Comedy, in Four Acts

Ever since I saw that figure on the ground, I can see nothing else. And it is I who brought it to the dust--I, who had sworn to cherish it. Yes, you are right; I too am different; I see things from a different point of view. And when I think of Margery's young life, so full of hope and joy--Margery, who never asked to be my wife--Margery, whom I compelled to marry me--with all the joy crushed out of her--I feel too much ashamed even to ask forgiveness. And as I watch her move about the house--silent and sorrowful--I ask myself, how much did Margery give up for me? I took her from the station of life in which she was born, and in which she was happy. I set her in another and a strange one. Was mine the only sacrifice? How much of friendship and of old association did she resign for my sake? My life continued as it was before--I had my old friends and my old pursuits. What had she? Nothing--but my love. And I took it away from her. Because she made a few mistakes, and a few people laughed--a few more didn't call--and I mistook a light heart for an empty head. What do all these things matter? what is a man worth who sets such things above a love like hers?