Clergy -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
He stooped down, kissed the little hand, and then left the room.
‘The cursed scoundrel!’ he muttered between his teeth, as he closed the
door behind him. ‘If it were not for Sir Christopher, I should like to
pound him into paste to poison puppies like himself.’
Chapter 10
That evening Captain Wybrow, returning from a long ride with Miss Assher,
went up to his dressing-room, and seated himself with an air of
considerable lassitude before his mirror. The reflection there presented
of his exquisite self was certainly paler and more worn than usual, and
might excuse the anxiety with which he first felt his pulse, and then
laid his hand on his heart.
‘It’s a devil of a position this for a man to be in,’ was the train of
his thought, as he kept his eyes fixed on the glass, while he leaned back
in his chair, and crossed his hands behind his head; ‘between two jealous
women, and both of them as ready to take fire as tinder. And in my state
of health, too! I should be glad enough to run away from the whole
affair, and go off to some lotus-eating place or other where there are no
women, or only women who are too sleepy to be jealous. Here am I, doing
nothing to please myself, trying to do the best thing for everybody else,
and all the comfort I get is to have fire shot at me from women’s eyes,
and venom spirted at me from women’s tongues. If Beatrice takes another
jealous fit into her head--and it’s likely enough, Tina is so
unmanageable--I don’t know what storm she may raise. And any hitch in
this marriage, especially of that sort, might be a fatal business for the
old gentleman. I wouldn’t have such a blow fall upon him for a great
deal. Besides, a man must be married some time in his life, and I could
hardly do better than marry Beatrice. She’s an uncommonly fine woman, and
I’m really very fond of her; and as I shall let her have her own way, her
temper won’t signify much. I wish the wedding was over and done with, for
this fuss doesn’t suit me at all. I haven’t been half so well lately.
That scene about Tina this morning quite upset me. Poor little Tina! What
a little simpleton it was, to set her heart on me in that way! But she
ought to see how impossible it is that things should be different. If she
would but understand how kindly I feel towards her, and make up her mind
to look on me as a friend;--but that is what one never can get a woman to
do. Beatrice is very good-natured; I’m sure she would be kind to the
little thing. It would be a great comfort if Tina would take to Gilfil,
if it were only in anger against me. He’d make her a capital husband, and
I should like to see the little grass-hopper happy. If I had been in a
different position, I would certainly have married her myself: but that
was out of the question with my responsibilities to Sir Christopher. I
think a little persuasion from my uncle would bring her to accept Gilfil;
I know she would never be able to oppose my uncle’s wishes. And if they
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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