What Will He Do with It? — Volume 12Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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What Will He Do with It? — Volume 12
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
"I see now that such nuptials are out of the question. But has the world
come to such a pass that one can never at any age have a friend in a lady
unless she marry him? Scruple to accompany me--me your cousin--me your
nearest surviving relation--in order to take back the young lady you have
virtually adopted!--scruple to trust yourself for half an hour to that
tumbledown old Fawley! Are you afraid that the gossips will say you, the
Marchioness of Montfort, are running after a gloomy old widower, and
scheming to be mistress of a mansion more like a ghosttrap than a
residence for civilised beings? Or are you afraid that Guy Darrell will
be fool and fop enough to think you are come to force on him your hand?
Pooh, pooh! Such scruples would be in place if you were a portionless
forward girl, or if he were a conceited young puppy, or even a suspicious
old roue. But Guy Darrell--a man of his station, his character, his
years! And you, cousin Caroline, what are you? Surely, lifted above all
such pitiful crotchets by a rank amongst the loftiest gentlewomen of
England; ample fortune, a beauty that in itself is rank and wealth; and,
above all, a character that has passed with such venerated purity through
an ordeal in which every eye seeks a spot, every ear invites a scandal.
But as you will. All I say is, that Darrell's future may be in your
hands; that after to-morrow, the occasion to give at least noble
occupation and lasting renown to a mind that is devouring itself and
stifling its genius, may be irrevocably lost; and that I do believe, if
you said to-morrow to Guy Daxrell, 'You refused to hear me when I pleaded
for what you thought a disgrace to your name, and yet even that you at
last conceded to the voice of affection as if of duty--now hear me when I
plead by the side of your oldest friend on behalf of your honour, and in
the name of your forefathers,'--if You say THAT, he is won to his
country. You will have repaired a wrong; and, pray, will you have
compromised your dignity?"
Caroline had recoiled into the corner of the carriage, her mantle close
down round her breast, her veil lowered; but no sheltering garb or veil
could conceal her agitation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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