Part 20 (1/2)
”Then, pray, sir, on what are built your pretensions to my sister?”
”Really, sir, they are built on _nothing_. I am, in every respect, immeasurably her inferior. I possess not a single merit that ent.i.tles me to grace from her.”
”I have surely not been misinformed. She tacitly admitted that she was engaged to be your wife.”
”'Tis very true. She is so.”
”But what, then, is the basis of this engagement?”
”Mutual affection, I believe, is the only basis. n.o.body who knows Jane Talbot will need to ask why she is beloved. Why she requites that pa.s.sion in the present case, is a question which she only can answer.”
”Her pa.s.sion, sir,” (contemptuously,) ”is the freak of a child; of folly and caprice. By your own confession you are beggarly and worthless, and therefore it becomes you to relinquish your claim.”
”I have no claim to relinquish. I have urged no claims. On the contrary, I have fully disclosed to her every folly and vice that cleaves to my character.”
”You know, sir, what I mean.”
”I am afraid not perfectly. If you mean that I should profess myself unworthy of your sister's favour, 'tis done. It has been done a hundred times.”
”My meaning, sir, is simply this: that you, from this moment, give up every expectation of being the husband of Mrs. Talbot. That you return to her every letter and paper that has pa.s.sed between you; that you drop all intercourse and correspondence.”
I was obliged to stifle a laugh which this whimsical proposal excited.
I continued, through this whole dialogue, to regard my companion with a steadfast and cheerful gravity.
”These are injunctions,” said I, ”that will hardly meet with compliance, unless, indeed, they were imposed by the lady herself. I shall always have a supreme regard for her happiness; and whatever path she points out to me, I will walk in it.”
”But _this_ is the path in which her true interest requires you to walk.”
”I have not yet discovered that to be _her_ opinion; the moment I do, I will walk in it accordingly.”
”No matter what _her_ opinion is. She is froward and obstinate. It is my opinion that her true happiness requires all connection between you to cease from this moment.”
”After all, sir, though, where judgments differ, one only can be right, yet each person must be permitted to follow his own. You would hardly, I imagine, allow your sister to prescribe to you in your marriage choice, and I fear she will lay claim to the same independence for herself. If you can convert her to your way of thinking, it is well. I solemnly engage to do whatever she directs.”
”This is insolence. You trifle with me. You pretend to misconstrue my meaning.”
”When you charge me with insolence, I think you afford pretty strong proof that you mistake _my_ meaning. I have not the least intention to offend you.”
”Let me be explicit with you. Do you instantly and absolutely resign all pretensions to my sister?”
”I will endeavour to be explicit in my turn. Your sister, notwithstanding my defects and disadvantages, offers me her love, vows to be mine. I accept her love; she is mine; nor need we to discuss the matter any further.”
This, however, by no means put an end to altercation. I told him I was willing to hear all that he had to say upon the subject. If truth were on his side, it was possible he might reason me into a concurrence with him.
In compliance with this concession, he dwelt on the benefits which his sister would receive from accompanying him to France, and the mutual sorrow, debas.e.m.e.nt, and perplexity likely to flow from a union between us, unsanctioned by the approbation of our common friends.
”The purpose of all this is to prove,” said I, ”that affluence and dignity without me will be more conducive to your sister's happiness than obscurity and indigence _with_ me.”