London (England) -- Fiction; Palliser, Plantagenet (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Political fiction; Prime ministers -- Fiction
"She never forgets anything. I shall ask her, straight away. She
knows my feeling about her, and I haven't a doubt but she'll tell me.
She's too honest to be able to lie. Has he got any money?"
"My cousin seems to think that he's rich."
"I suppose he is. Oh, Lord! That's a blow. I wish I could have the
pleasure of shooting him as a man might a few years ago. But what
would be the good? The girl would only hate me the more after it. The
best thing to do would be to shoot myself."
"Don't talk like that, Arthur."
"I shan't throw up the sponge as long as there's a chance left, Sir
Alured. But it will go badly with me if I'm beat at last. I shouldn't
have thought it possible that I should have felt anything so much."
Then he pulled his hair, and thrust his hand into his waistcoat; and
turned away, so that his old friend might not see the tear in his
eye.
His old friend also was much moved. It was dreadful to him that the
happiness of a Fletcher, and the comfort of the Whartons generally,
should be marred by a man with such a name as Ferdinand Lopez.
"She'll never marry him without her father's consent," said Sir
Alured.
"If she means it, of course he'll consent."
"That I'm sure he won't. He doesn't like the man a bit better than
you do." Fletcher shook his head. "And he's as fond of you as though
you were already his son."
"What does it matter? If a girl sets her heart on marrying a man, of
course she will marry him. If he had no money it might be different.
But if he's well off, of course he'll succeed. Well--; I suppose
other men have borne the same sort of thing before and it hasn't
killed them."
"Let us hope, my boy. I think of her quite as much as of you."
"Yes,--we can hope. I shan't give it up. As for her, I dare say
she knows what will suit her best. I've nothing to say against the
man,--excepting that I should like to cut him into four quarters."
"But a foreigner!"
"Girls don't think about that,--not as you do and Mr. Wharton. And I
think they like dark, greasy men with slippery voices, who are up to
dodges and full of secrets. Well, sir, I shall go to her at once and
have it out."
"You'll speak to my cousin?"
"Certainly I will. He has always been one of the best friends I ever
had in my life. I know it hasn't been his fault. But what can a man
do? Girls won't marry this man or that because they're told."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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