English fiction -- 19th century; Victoria, Queen of Great Britain, 1819-1901 -- Fiction
‘I repeat it, because you seem to have no idea what I am going to speak
of. I am the last person to find pleasure in such a disagreeable duty as
is now laid upon me. In that respect, I believe you will do me justice.’
‘Will you speak plainly? This roundabout talk is intolerable.’
Samuel drew himself up, and regarded her with offended dignity. He had
promised himself no small satisfaction from this interview, had foreseen
its salient points. His mere aspect would be enough to subdue Nancy, and
when he began to speak she would tremble before him. Such a moment would
repay him for the enforced humility of years. Perhaps she would weep;
she might even implore him to be merciful. How to act in that event he
had quite made up his mind. But all such anticipations were confused by
Nancy’s singular behaviour. She seemed, in truth, not to understand the
hints which should have overwhelmed her.
More magisterial than ever, he began to speak with slow emphasis.
‘Miss. Lord,--I will still address you by that name,--though for a very
long time I have regarded you as a person worthy of all admiration, and
have sincerely humbled myself before you, I cannot help thinking that a
certain respect is due to me. Even though I find that you have deceived
me as to your position, the old feelings are still so strong in me that
I could not bear to give you needless pain. Instead of announcing to my
father, and to other people, the strange facts which I have learnt, I
come here as a friend,--I speak with all possible forbearance,--I do my
utmost to spare you. Am I not justified in expecting at least courteous
treatment?’
A pause of awful impressiveness. The listener, fully conscious at length
of the situation she had to face, fell into a calmer mood. All was over.
Suspense and the burden of falsehood had no longer to be endured. Her
part now, for this hour at all events, was merely to stand by whilst
Fate unfolded itself.
‘Please say whatever you have to say, Mr. Barmby,’ she replied with
quiet civility. ‘I believe your intention was good. You made me nervous,
that was all.’
‘Pray forgive me. Perhaps it will be best if I ask you a simple
question. You will see that the position I hold under your father’s will
leaves me no choice but to ask it. Is it true that you are married?’
‘I will answer if you tell me how you came to think that I was married.’
‘I have been credibly informed.’
‘By whom?’
‘You must forgive me. I can’t tell you the name.’
‘Then I can’t answer your question.’
Samuel mused. He was unwilling to break a distinct promise.
‘No doubt,’ said Nancy, ‘you have undertaken not to mention the person.’
‘I have.’
‘If it is some one who used to be a friend of mine, you needn’t have any
scruples. She as good as told me what she meant to do. Of course it is
Miss. Morgan?’
‘As you have yourself spoken the name--’
‘Very well. She isn’t in her senses, and I wonder she has kept the
secret so long.’
‘You admit the truth of what she has told me?’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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