Dr Thorne - Anthony Trollope [266]
‘Exactly; and because you know him to be high-minded, because you think that he, having so much to give, will not break his word to you – to you who have nothing to give in return – it is, therefore, that you say that the first step must be taken by him. Is that noble?’
Then Mary rose from her seat, for it was no longer possible for her to speak what it was in her to say, sitting there leisurely on her sofa. Lady Arabella’s worship of money had not hitherto been so brought forward in the conversation as to give her unpardonable offence; but now she felt that she could no longer restrain her indignation. ‘To you who have nothing to give in return!’ Had she not given all that she possessed? Had she not emptied her store into his lap? that heart of hers, beating with such genuine life, capable of such perfect love, throbbing with so grand a pride; had she not given that? And was not that, between him and her, more than twenty Greshamsburys, nobler than any pedigree? ‘To you who have nothing to give,’ indeed! This to her who was so ready to give everything!
‘Lady Arabella,’ she said, ‘I think that you do not understand me, and that it is not likely that you should. If so, our further talking will be worse than useless. I have taken no account of what will be given between your son and me in your sense of the word giving. But he has professed to – to love me’ – as she spoke, she still looked on the lady’s face, but her eyelashes for a moment screened her eyes, and her colour was a little heightened – ‘and I have acknowledged that I also love him, and so we were engaged. To me my promise is sacred. I will not be threatened into breaking it. If, however, he shall wish to change his mind, he can do so. I will not upbraid him; will not, if I can help it, think harshly of him. So much you may tell him if it suits you; but I will not listen to your calculations as to how much or how little each of us may have to give to the other.’
She was still standing when she finished speaking, and so she continued to stand. Her eyes were fixed on Lady Arabella, and her position seemed to say that sufficient words had been spoken, and that it was time that her ladyship should go; and so Lady Arabella felt it. Gradually she also rose; slowly, but tacitly, she acknowledged that she was in the presence of a spirit superior to her own; and so she took her leave.
‘Very well,’ she said, in a tone that was intended to be grandiloquent, but which failed grievously; ‘I will tell him that he has your permission to think a second time on this matter. I do not doubt but that he will do so.’ Mary would not condescend to answer, but curtsied low as her visitor left the room. And so the interview was over.
The interview was over, and Mary was alone. She remained standing as long as she heard the footsteps of Frank’s mother on the stairs; not immediately thinking of what had passed, but still buoying herself up with her hot indignation, as though her work with Lady Arabella was not yet finished; but when the footfall was no longer heard, and the sound of the closing door told her that she was in truth alone, she sank back in her seat, and, covering her face with her hands, burst into bitter tears.
All that doctrine about money was horrible to her; that insolent pretence, that she had caught at Frank because of his worldly position, made her all but ferocious; but Lady Arabella had not the less spoken much that was true. She did think of the position which the heir of Greshamsbury should hold in the county, and of the fact that a marriage would mar that position so vitally; she did think of the old name, and the old Gresham pride; she did think of the squire and his deep distress: it was true that she had lived among them long enough to understand these things, and to know that it was not possible that this marriage should take place without deep family sorrow.
And then she asked herself whether, in consenting to accept Frank’s hand, she had adequately considered