England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
‘That would be nonsense,’ said Mr. Beresford, involuntarily putting his
hand into the pocket where he kept his money. ‘Folly! You don’t suppose
he gave half as much for it as he sold it to us for. The very mention of
that sort of sickening conscientiousness puts one out. We are to sell in
the dearest and buy in the cheapest market, eh? That’s the true
principle of trade.’
‘It is not in the Bible, though,’ said Mrs. Beresford, with a smile.
‘Cara would open her eyes and wonder; and you, who are the weakest of
men, could never stand against her if Cara made big eyes.’
‘The weakest of men! You flatter me, it must be allowed----’
‘Yes; so you are, James. You could not endure to be disapproved of. What
would have become of you if I, instead of giving in to all your ways,
had been a more correct and proper person? If I had made you visit just
the right things--go to English parties, and keep to the proper sort of
tourist society? If you had been obliged to sit indoors in the evenings
and read a _Galignani_ or a Tauchnitz novel while I worked, what would
have become of you? I know well enough, for my part.’
‘I should have done it, I suppose,’ he said, half laughing; ‘and will
Cara--little Cara--be like that? You frighten me, Annie; we had better
make away with her somehow; marry her, or hand her over to the aunts,
before it comes to this.’
Then a sudden change came over the smiling face. ‘Cara--or someone
else--will most likely be like that. Poor James! I foresee trouble for
you. How you will think of me when you are in bonds! when you want to go
out and roam about on the Boulevards, and have to sit still instead and
read aloud to somebody! Ah, how you will think of me! You will say, Poor
Annie! if Annie had but lived----’
‘What is this? what is this?’ he said. ‘Again, Annie! I think you want
to make me miserable; to take all the comfort out of my life.’
‘Oh, no, no; not that,’ she said. ‘I am only going to get my bonnet, and
then we shall go out. Cara is not here yet to keep us in order. We can
honeymoon yet for one more year.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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