Part 36 (1/2)
”To sacrifice her whole life, you mean. It is the first time she has ever hesitated to sacrifice her own comfort, and therefore the first time you are conscious that any sacrifice is required. Let me tell her that you will allow her to take her own course, Uncle Reginald. He is well enough off; and they are fond of one another. A man of genius is worth fifty men of rank.”
”Tell her, if you please, Elinor, that she must choose between Mr.
Conolly and me. If she prefers him, well and good: I have done with her.
That is my last word.”
”So now she has n.o.body to turn to in the world except him. That is sensible. Come, cousin George! I am off.”
”I do not think I should do any good by going,” said the clergyman.
”Then stay where you are,” said Elinor. ”Good-night.” And she abruptly left the room.
”It was a dreadful mistake ever to have allowed that young fury to enter the house,” said Mr. Lind. ”She must be mad. What did _he_ say?”
”He said a great deal in attempted self-justification. But I could make no impression on him. We have no feelings in common with a man of his type. No. He is evidently bent on raising himself by a good marriage.”
”We cannot prevent it.”
”Oh, surely we----”
”I tell you we _cannot_ prevent it,” repeated Mr. Lind, turning angrily upon his son. ”How can we? What can we do? She will marry this--this--this--this beggar. I wish to G.o.d I had never seen her mother.”
The clergyman stood by, cowed, and said nothing.
”You had better go to that woman of Marmaduke's,” continued Mr. Lind, ”and try whether she can persuade her brother to commute his interest in the company, and go back to America, or to the devil. I will take care that he gets good terms, even if I have to make them up out of my own pocket. If the worst comes, _she_ must be persuaded to leave Marmaduke.
Offer her money. Women of that sort drive a hard bargain; but they have their price.”
”But, sir, consider my profession. How can I go to drive a bargain with a woman of evil reputation?”
”Well, I must go myself, I suppose.”
”Oh, no. I will go. Only I thought I would mention it.”
”A clergyman can go anywhere. You are privileged. Come to breakfast in the morning: we can talk over matters then.”
CHAPTER XI
One morning the Rev. George Lind received a letter addressed in a handwriting which he did not remember and never thenceforth forgot.
Within the envelope he found a dainty little bag made of blue satin, secured by ribbons of the same material. This contained a note written on scented paper, edged with gold, and decorated with a miniature representation of a _pierrot_, sitting cross-legged, conning a book, on the open pages of which appeared the letters L.V. The clergyman recognized the monogram no more than the writing. But as it was evidently from a lady, he felt a pleasant thrill of expectation as he unfolded the paper.
”Laurel Grove West Kensington ”Wednesday ”Dear Mr. George
”I have made poor little Lucy believe that Kew is the most heavenly place on earth to spend a May morning so Bob has had to promise to row her down there to-morrow (Thursday) after breakfast and I shall be at home alone from eleven to one this is very short notice I know but opportunities are scarce and another might not present itself for a month.
”Believe me Dear Mr. George
”Yours sincerely Lalage Virtue.”