Another season had come round and was at its height; and Mr. and Mrs.
Dalrymple had again come up to it. The past autumn and winter had been
spent at Moat Grange, which Selina found insufferably dull, and where
her chief solace and recreation consisted in looking over her
beautiful and extensive wardrobe, and trying on portions of it in
private. A very negative sort of enjoyment. Where was the use of
possessing these divine dresses and adjuncts, when no field was
afforded for their display? Selina had ventured to wear one costly
robe on a certain evening that she dined at Court Netherleigh, and was
severely taken to task by her mother, who was the only other guest,
and by Miss Upton, for appearing in such "finery." They asked her what
she meant by such extravagance. And that before Oscar, too! Selina
blushed a little and laughed it off; but she mentally wondered what
would have been said had she put on her very finest, or if they saw
the stock at home.
During the winter Selina had a fever, brought on, it was thought, from
exposing herself unduly to damp. She grew better, but was somewhat
delicate and very capricious. Oscar, loving her intensely, grew to
humour her fancies and to pet her as if she were a spoiled child. Her
conscience reproached her now and then for the tacit deceit she was
enacting, in thus suffering him to live in blissful ignorance of their
true position; but on the whole it did not trouble her greatly. Alice,
her sensitive sister, would have died under it; Selina contrived to
exist very comfortably.
"If you found out that I had done anything dreadfully wrong, would you
quite kill me?" she playfully said to him one day.
"Dare say I should," answered Oscar, putting on a face of mock
severity. "Might depend, perhaps, upon what the thing was."
"Ah, no; you'd just scold me for five minutes, and then kiss and be
friends. I always said you'd never turn out to be an old griffin."
That was the nearest approach Selina ever made towards confessing to
her husband. And Oscar had only looked upon it as a bit of passing
pleasantry.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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