Country homes -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
"I'll give up the house if they'll let me take what I require!" That, on
the morrow, was what Mrs. Gereth's stifled night had qualified her to
say, with a tragic face, at breakfast. Fleda reflected that what she
"required" was simply every object that surrounded them. The poor woman
would have admitted this truth and accepted the conclusion to be drawn
from it, the reduction to the absurd of her attitude, the exaltation of
her revolt. The girl's dread of a scandal, of spectators and critics,
diminished the more she saw how little vulgar avidity had to do with
this rigor. It was not the crude love of possession; it was the need to
be faithful to a trust and loyal to an idea. The idea was surely noble:
it was that of the beauty Mrs. Gereth had so patiently and consummately
wrought. Pale but radiant, with her back to the wall, she rose there
like a heroine guarding a treasure. To give up the ship was to flinch
from her duty; there was something in her eyes that declared she would
die at her post. If their difference should become public the shame
would be all for the others. If Waterbath thought it could afford to
expose itself, then Waterbath was welcome to the folly. Her fanaticism
gave her a new distinction, and Fleda perceived almost with awe that she
had never carried herself so well. She trod the place like a reigning
queen or a proud usurper; full as it was of splendid pieces, it could
show in these days no ornament so effective as its menaced mistress.
Our young lady's spirit was strangely divided; she had a tenderness for
Owen which she deeply concealed, yet it left her occasion to marvel at
the way a man was made who could care in any relation for a creature
like Mona Brigstock when he had known in any relation a creature like
Adela Gereth. With such a mother to give him the pitch, how could he
take it so low? She wondered that she didn't despise him for this, but
there was something that kept her from it. If there had been nothing
else it would have sufficed that she really found herself from this
moment the medium of communication with him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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