England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- England -- Fiction
“I told you,” continued Roger on observing his emotion, “that I did not
know whether it was right or not to tell you; but as you wanted to know,
and I am no keeper of secrets, it is no blame of mine. Frankly, I tell
you it is all owing to the story of your birth, which your father told
to mine some days ago together with all the rest of what he meant to
do for you, in order that there might be no misunderstanding afterwards
between the families. My father and mother, indeed the whole family,
like you uncommonly well; and as for myself, I think you a regularly
good-hearted fellow, and should have no objection any day to make the
second at your wedding with Jenny; but then their rigid and straitened
notions are not mine, although I have on several occasions told them
just as plainly as I am talking to you now, that they and I are by no
means alike in opinion. I can assure you it is nothing else; for though
in fact such a match would be quite equal to anything Jane could ever
expect, if not greater, as Mr. Lupton volunteered to make a will in
your favour, as well as to give you a handsome fortune down before the
marriage, yet with them, especially with my mother, it is a sort of
matter of conscience which they do not seem at present as if they could
overcome. It is the source of much grief to them, that I can tell you;
and especially as Jane seems to have taken such a liking to you: but
then, you see--however, I can only say this,--and I am her brother,
and would not see a hair of her head touched, nor a lash of her eye wet
unnecessarily,--no, not for the best man in England! but this I promise
you, that if _I_ were in your place and in love with any young person
that I cared anything particular about, I would make up my mind to have
her, and have her I would, let anybody, either man or woman, say or do
whatever they liked! That is my spirit,--though I should not have told
you so if I had not cared something about you.”
In this strange speech Colin saw at once the bitter cause of all his
fear, combined most oddly with something which yet inspired him with
hope. Surely he could not altogether fail, with perseverance, and the
assistance (to begin with) of such a spirited auxiliary as Roger Calvert
had thus proved himself likely to be.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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