He that will not when he may; vol. IIIOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
He that will not when he may; vol. III
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fiction
Lady Markham, when she thus received Sir Augustus, did so with no
intention of herself remaining in the house which had been her home for
so long. In any case, when the lawyer had pronounced that there was no
longer any room for resistance, she would have yielded; she would not
have prolonged a vain struggle, or given the new owner any trouble in
gaining possession of his house. When she lay down that night for the
first time under the same roof with the interloper, he who had, she said
to herself, ruined her son’s prospects, and taken his inheritance from
him, she had not that satisfaction in her mind of having done her duty
which is supposed to be the unfailing recompense of a good action. She
had done her duty, she hoped. She did not think that she was justified
in refusing Sir Gus’s overtures, or in turning him into an enemy; but
it was with a sore heart and mind, much exercised with doubt, that she
thought of what she had done. It was right in one way, but was it right
in another? What would Paul think of her apparent alliance and
friendship with the man who certainly had been his supplanter, and so
far as any one could see had spoiled his life? Paul was Lady Markham’s
dearest son, but he was the darkest place in her landscape, the subject
which she dwelt upon most, yet had least comfort in contemplating.
Notwithstanding the love and anxiety which he called forth in her, all
the questions connected with him were so painful that, if she could, she
would have avoided them altogether. What was he going to do? Was he on
the eve of the voyage which might separate him from her for ever? Was he
on the eve of the marriage that would separate them still more? She
longed and pined every day for letters from him, and yet when the post
brought none, she was almost relieved. At least he was not going yet, at
least he was not married yet. She wrote to him almost every day, and
lavished upon him a thousand tendernesses, and yet it was no pleasure to
her to think of Paul. His very name brought an additional line to her
forehead and quiver to her lip.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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