Ernest Maltravers — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
Ernest Maltravers — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
“The assurance of your friendly feelings is most welcome to me. In much
of what you say of marriage, I am inclined, though with reluctance, to
agree. As to Lady Florence herself, few persons are more calculated
to dazzle, perhaps to fascinate. But is she a person to make a home
happy--to sympathise where she has been accustomed to command--to
comprehend, and to yield to the waywardness and irritability common to
our fanciful and morbid race--to content herself with the homage of a
single heart? I do not know her enough to decide the question; but I
know her enough to feel deep solicitude and anxiety for your happiness,
if centred in a nature so imperious and so vain. But you will remind me
of her fortune, her station. You will say that such are the sources from
which, to an ambitious mind, happiness may well be drawn! Alas! I fear
that the man who marries Lady Florence must indeed confine his dreams
of felicity to those harsh and disappointing realities. But, Cesarini,
these are not words which, were we more intimate, I would address to
you. I doubt the reality of those affections which you ascribe to her
and suppose devoted to yourself. She is evidently fond of conquest. She
sports with the victims she makes. Her vanity dupes others, perhaps to
be duped itself at last. I will not say more to you.
“Yours,
E. MALTRAVERS.”
“Hurrah!” cried Ferrers, as he threw down the letter, and rubbed his
hands with delight. “I little thought, when I schemed for this letter,
that chance would make it so inestimably serviceable. There is less
to alter than I thought for--the clumsiest botcher in the world could
manage it. Let me look again. Hem, hem--the first phrase to alter is
this: ‘I know her enough to feel deep solicitude and anxiety for _your_
happiness if centred in a nature so imperious and vain’--scratch
out ‘your,’ and put ‘my.’ All the rest good, good--till we come
to ‘affections which you ascribe to her, and suppose devoted to
_yourself_’--for ‘_yourself_’ write ‘_myself_’--the rest will do. Now,
then, the date--we must change it to the present month, and the work is
done. I wish that Italian blockhead would come. If I can but once make
an irreparable breach between her and Maltravers, I think I cannot fail
of securing his place; her pique, her resentment, will hurry her into
taking the first who offers, by way of revenge. And by Jupiter, even if
I fail (which I am sure I shall not), it will be something to keep Flory
as lady paramount for a duke of our own party. I shall gain immensely
by such a connection; but I lose everything and gain nothing by her
marrying Maltravers--of opposite politics too--whom I begin to hate
like poison. But no duke shall have her--Florence Ferrers, the only
alliteration I ever liked--yet it would sound rough in poetry.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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