A Righted Wrong: A Novel. Volume 3 (of 3)Yates, Edmund
General
A Righted Wrong: A Novel. Volume 3 (of 3)
Yates, Edmund
Fiction
During and since that time, Gertrude, who was singularly free from
vanity and quite incapable of pretence, had frequently asked herself
whether she had not given her heart to one who did not love her. Even
if it had been so to her indisputable knowledge, she would not have
striven to withdraw the gift. She loved him, once and for ever, and
she would, sanctify that love in her heart, if he were never to be
more to her than the truest and most valued of friends. She was
utterly sincere and candid in this resolution; she had no
foreknowledge of the difficulty, the impossibility of maintaining it.
She was content, ay, even happy, in her uncertainty, which was
sometimes hope, but never despair. Such a possibility as that George
should love her and refrain from telling her so, because of her
wealth, literally never occurred to her, any more than that, if he
loved her, and told her so, the most unscrupulous calumniator in the
world could accuse him of caring for that wealth, of even remembering
it. It had no place in her thoughts at all. She lived her dream-life
happily; sometimes her dreams were brighter, sometimes more sombre;
but their glitter did not come from her gold, their shadow was not
cast by cynical doubt, by worldly-wise suspicion.
When the time came for their journey to London, Gertrude was more sad
than elated. Her best friend, the one on whom she leaned with the
trusting reliance of a daughter, from whom she had ever experienced
the fond indulgence of a parent, was to remain at the Deane. Mr.
Dugdale's health rendered it impossible for him to accompany the
family, and Mrs. Carteret and Eleanor did not regret his absence.
Their feelings were in accord on every point connected with the
expedition. Eleanor foresaw no impediment to her frequent enjoyment of
Robert Meredith's society, under the auspices of Mrs. Carteret, who,
on her part, had great satisfaction in the prospect of partaking in
the gaieties of a London season, for which she still retained an
unpalled taste, and maintaining a splendid establishment at the
expense of her niece.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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