It was a Lover and His LassOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
It was a Lover and His Lass
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
his mind was not so much any objection of his own to marry her, as the
certainty that she would object to marry him. He felt that it would be
a derogation, that she would come down from her dignity, give up her
high estate, if she accepted what he had to offer.
He studied her face with this idea in his mind. Was it the least likely
that a woman with a countenance like that would buy even justice so?
Miss Jean, to whom he was talking, was more malleable. It bewildered
him a good deal to look at them, and to think that one or the other
of these ladies before whom he bowed so low, who looked at him with
timidly suspicious eyes of middle age, might, should, must, if he had
his way, become his wife. But in his own person he never hesitated; he
did not know how it was to be brought about. If it could be done, as
"abroad," by the intervention of an agent, the matter would have been
greatly simplified. But this, he was partially aware, was not possible
in England. Neither in England, according to what he had heard, would
it be possible to settle it as a friendly arrangement, a piece of
mercenary business. No, he knew he must conform to English rules, if
he would be successful, and woo the wronged lady with all the ordinary
formulas. He would have to fall in love with her, represent himself
as dying for her. All these preliminaries Lewis had felt to be hard,
but he had determined within himself to go through with them. He would
be heroically tender, he would draw upon novels and his imagination
for the different acts of the drama, and carry them through with
unflinching courage. He was resolved that nothing should be wanting
on his part. But it cannot be denied that Stormont's revelation took
him altogether aback. Co-heiresses!--he could not offer himself to
two ladies--he could not declare love and pretend passion for two! He
remembered even that there was a third, the one in the blue veil, and
it was this thought that at last touched an easier chord in his being,
and relieved him with a long low tremulous outburst of laughter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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