The heir: A love storySackville-West, V. (Victoria)
General
The heir: A love story
Sackville-West, V. (Victoria)
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Short stories, English
The difficulties of life had not sobered her. On the contrary, as she
disencumbered herself more and more from the oppression of the
traditions in which she had been brought up, her mettle had risen with
proportionate buoyancy. She soared, as the weights dropped from her. She
fled from these realities with increasing determination into the realms
of make-believe. In her worst moments—for there had been bad moments,
hours in her career which would have seemed to anyone else unpromisingly
dark, hours when dishonesty saddened and failure discouraged her—she
could always say to herself, “I don’t exist at all. There’s no such
person as Lydia Protheroe.” And she thought of all the parish ledgers,
serious and civic, in which the birth, baptism, and other _faits et
gestes_ of Lydia Protheroe ought properly to be recorded, and from which
Lydia Protheroe was so gratifyingly absent. This habit of mind grew upon
her, until every suggestion of her actual existence as a citizen and a
ratepayer was enough to throw her into a state of indignation. Who was
Lydia Protheroe, that unsubstantial and fantastic being, that she should
be bound down to the orthodoxy of an urban district council form for the
payment of property-tax or house-duty? that she should be asked to
account for her income and to contribute a shilling in the pound towards
the upkeep of her country? she who had no country, no status? she who
was so impudently and audaciously a myth? It was manifestly impossible
to induce the tax-collectors to take this view. It would have entailed,
moreover, the betrayal of Lydia Protheroe’s secret, and the asking of
questions leading inevitably to the resurrection of Alice Jennings. She
consoled herself, therefore, in the midst of her mortification as she
filled in her forms (never until “third application” glared across the
top of the paper), by reflecting that she was playing a trick on the
authorities with her tongue well thrust into her cheek. But there was
nothing she would not do to evade the census returns, when they came
round in 1891, and again in 1901, and again in 1911.
VI
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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