A Valiant Ignorance; vol. 2 of 3: A Novel in Three VolumesDickens, Mary Angela
General
A Valiant Ignorance; vol. 2 of 3: A Novel in Three Volumes
Dickens, Mary Angela
Fiction
Throughout his boyhood, easy as it had been, untouched by any strong
passion or desire, he had lied now and again, naturally and
instinctively. He had lied to save himself trouble, to save himself some
slight reproach--as he had lied to his mother on the subject of his
visit to Alexandria, to save himself from the confession of having
forgotten her commission. He had lied to Clemence from first to last,
and the first prick of that dart, which was now his constant companion,
had touched him when he first felt shame for those lies. But there was a
reckless, calculating deception about his life now which went deeper
and meant more. He lied to his mother with every word and action, and
with the unreasoning cruelty of his mental attitude towards her--there
is nothing towards which a man can be so heartless as the object to
which he has transferred his own wrong-doing--he hugged his deception of
her, and revelled in the sense of independence and power it gave him.
The endless deception which the fundamental falsity of his present life
necessitated, radiated on every side. To please his mother, as he told
himself with an ugly smile, he had flirted with Miss Pomeroy in the
early part of the winter until--a certain distance in her manner to him
melting--he had hailed her departure for Cannes as a blessed reprieve.
He had flirted with her this afternoon at Mrs. Halse’s, excited by the
news contained in the two letters he had since re-read, reckless in the
prospect of release they brought nearer to him, and with a certain
delight in the daring defiance of consequences. He had lied to Lord
Garstin when that good-natured mentor had let fall a warning word as to
the “bad form” of gambling; he lied to his coach when his frequent
absences were commented on.
In that desperate craving for money, in which all the passion of his
life was centering itself, dishonesty of deed was the natural and
inevitable corollary of dishonesty of word. The possession of money was
his one object in life; his conscience as to the means by which that
money was to be obtained he deliberately put into abeyance for the time
being. He had become possessed in the course of the last six months of
some thousands, not one of which had been earned by honest work; much of
which had come to him by more than questionable means.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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