Lord Ormont and His Aminta — Volume 1Meredith, George
General
Lord Ormont and His Aminta — Volume 1
Meredith, George
English fiction -- 19th century
But, then, Ormont had high principles with regard to the dues to his
family. His principles could always be trusted. The dangerous young
person would have to be a person of lineage, of a certain station at
least: no need for a titled woman, only for warranted good blood. Is
that to be found certificated out of the rolls of Society? It may just
possibly be found, without certificate, however, in those muddled caverns
where the excluded intermingle. Here and there, in a peasant family,
or a small country tradesman's just raised above a peasant, honest
regenerating blood will be found. Nobles wanting refreshment from the
soil might do worse than try a slip of one of those juicy weeds; ill-
fated, sickly Royalties would be set-up striding through another half-
century with such invigoration, if it could be done for them! There are
tales. The tales are honourably discredited by the crazy constitutions
of the heirs to the diadem.
Yes, but we are speculating on the matter seriously, as though it were
one of intimate concern to the family. What is there to make us think
that Ormont would marry? Impossible to imagine him intimidated.
Unlikely that he, a practised reader of women, having so little of the
woman in him, would be melted by a wily girl; as women in the twilight
situation have often played the trick to come into the bright beams.
How? They do a desperate thing, and call it generosity, and then they
appeal from it to my lord's generosity; and so the two generosities drive
off in a close carriage with a friend and a professional landlady for the
blessing of the parson, and are legitimately united. Women have won
round fools to give way in that way. And quite right too! thought Lady
Charlotte, siding with nature and justice, as she reflected that no woman
created would win round her brother to give way in that way. He was too
acute. The moment the woman showed sign of becoming an actress, her doom
was written. "Poor idiot!" was not uncharitably inscribed by the
sisterly lady on the tombstone of hopes aimed with scarce pardonable
ambition at her brother.
She blew away the rumour. Ormont, she vowed, had not entitled any woman
to share and bear his title. And this was her interpretation of the
report: he permitted (if he did permit) the woman to take his name,
that he might have a scornful fling at the world maltreating him.
Besides, the name was not published, it was not to be seen in the papers;
it passed merely among male friends, tradesmen, servants: no great harm
in that.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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