Mary Seaham: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3Grey, Mrs. (Elizabeth Caroline)
General
Mary Seaham: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3
Grey, Mrs. (Elizabeth Caroline)
Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"Louis, Louis!" Mary interposed, the crimson blood mantling her cheeks
and brow, and her gentle eyes flashing fire, "in your exaggerated
estimate of my own worthiness you are unjust, you are injurious towards
Eugene, as well as unkind to me. Yes, is it not unkindness to bring
forth such slighting insinuations against one whom you know I love, must
ever love, and whose wife," she added, lifting up her eyes as if she
felt the compact signed and sealed at least in heaven, "I have promised
to become."
"Well--well, Mary," Mr. de Burgh soothingly replied; not totally
unaffected by this unwonted demonstration of excited spirit in his calm
and gentle cousin; "I will not ask you not to love Trevor; that I
suppose--indeed, I too plainly see would be crying out to shut the door
after the horse was stolen, but I may--I must advise you," he added with
an expression of great kindness, "as a cousin, feeling himself under
present circumstances almost standing in the place of a brother, to be
in no haste to involve yourself irremediably in so important and
irreparable a step as marriage, without further knowledge, a clearer
insight into the nature of the man who will have the rule and influence
over your whole future destiny. Oh, to see," he continued, with
increased excitement, "how people do rush ignorantly and recklessly upon
this matter, it might seem that the happiness of a whole lifetime was
nothing in comparison to the gratification of a passing fancy, a
temporary infatuation."
He paused, but Mary made no reply. Her cousin spoke feelingly, no doubt,
he often expressed himself thus warmly after having been provoked more
than usual, or put out of humour by some altercation with his wife. She
thought it might be but the angry insinuations of the excited
moment--for she often hoped, indeed was sure, that beneath this outward
show of bitterness and strife, which bad habit had engendered, in the
intercourse between man and wife--a fund of real, genuine affection, one
towards another, lay deep and dormant in either heart, but especially in
that of the husband's. But what availed all this towards "the mutual
society, help, comfort," which, as the marriage service sets forth, "one
ought to have had towards the other," whilst the most indispensable
requisites to that effect, "to bear and to forbear," were wanting.
"Husbands love your wives, and be not bitter against them. Wives submit
yourselves to your husbands as unto the Lord." How came it that the
injunctions to which they had both listened at the altar had been so
soon, to all appearances, forgotten or disregarded?
So Mary, as we have said, made no reply. She only lowered her long dark
lashes, and waited in painful silence the close of her cousin's supposed
philippic, one with which she considered she had no individual concern.
For what had passing fancy or momentary infatuation to do with her own
deep, true, steadfast love?
Mr. de Burgh receiving no interruption, in a calmer tone continued:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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