This is a letter that reached me from a girl who wishes to conceal her name... I do not know whether she is a Palestinian who knew me in those tranquil days, when for years I remained the confidante of girls and young men like her, who would lay their problems before me believing — in their good opinion of me — that I could take a hand in solving them... or whether she is a girl from outside Palestine who took it into her head to do this? All I know is that she is one of the readers of The Woman's Voice, and that since she awaits an answer and has sent no address, she awaits it, then, in the pages of The Woman's Voice. Here is what the letter said, after the customary preamble:
"I am a girl of twenty, of moderate looks — I mean I am neither very beautiful nor ugly — educated, and I work in a certain office. Several men have asked for my hand and I refused, because I did not care for them, and neither did my mother. This week a man of twenty-six asked for my hand; he is wealthy, can guarantee me a life of ease, and holds a good position, but he is unattractive in appearance — I mean he is thin of body and face, and always wears spectacles because he is short-sighted. This man is noble in character and of excellent qualities, and it may be that through this nobility I shall grow attached to him in the future and no longer mind his outward appearance; but I shall be a target for the mockery of my companions, whom his appearance will not please... I am perplexed: there is the life of ease and the splendid automobile, but inwardly I prefer the man of less wealth and better looks. What am I to do?"
As for my answer to the perplexed young lady, it is this:
My dear Miss F.,
You are a girl of twenty — that is, at the age most suitable for marriage... Several men have come
asking for your hand, and you refused and your mother refused; the agreement of you both in refusing is a sign of praiseworthy understanding between mother and daughter — provided it is not likewise a sign of obstinacy...
Then this young man came as a suitor, and you did not refuse him outright as you had done before; rather you took your time and went looking for someone to consult. Did the splendid automobile have a hand in this? Or did you remember that there is a marriage crisis, and that opportunities may not come again?
Your suitor is suited to you in age; he is wealthy and can assure you a life of ease; and above all he is noble in character and of excellent qualities — these merits that have their supreme value in married life and their profound effect on the life of the family... Then, too, you admit that this nobility in his nature may lead you to become attached to him in the future, so that you pay no heed to outward beauty... What, then, remains to stand between you and happiness? The mockery of companions, and people's failure to admire...
I do not deny, my friend, that beauty has its profound effect on our souls, and that even if we are not among its devotees, we take pride and pleasure in possessing it: the handsome companion, the beautiful dress, the house and the garden — everything of beauty that we possess grows in value in our eyes the more charming it is and the more it draws the eye... But are we not confusing passing vainglory with abiding happiness...? If that vainglory were the foundation of our happiness, or if our happiness were measured by the amount of beauty we possess, then you would see that the most beautiful of people, and those most able to possess beauty, were the happiest of people... Have you watched people and noticed this...?
Life, my girl, has two faces: its outward face, which people see and admire or do not admire; and its inward face, which concerns the two spouses alone and is the foundation of our happiness. Believe me, people's admiration or