One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

George Meredith
not quite that: and an innocent, a positive innocent—it may
seem incredible, after a term of school-life: it was a fact: I
can hardly understand it myself when I look back. Marries
him! And then sets to work to persecute him, because he has
blood in his veins, because he worships beauty; because he
seeks a real marriage, a real mate. And, I say it! let the world
take its own view, the world is wrong! because he preferred a
virtuous life to the kind of life she would, she must—why,
necessarily!—have driven him to, with a mummy’s grain of
nature in his body. And I am made of flesh, I admit it.’
‘Victor, dearest, her threat concerns only your living at
Lakelands.’
‘Pray, don’t speak excitedly, my love,’ he replied to the
woman whose tones had been subdued to scarce more than
waver. ‘You see how I meet it: water off a duck’s back, or
Indian solar beams on the skin of a Hindoo! I despise it hardly
worth contempt;—But, come: our day was a good one.
Fenellan worked well. Old Colney was Colney Durance, of
course. He did no real mischief.’
‘And you will not determine to enter Lakelands—not yet,
dear?’ said Nataly.
‘My own girl, leave it all to me.’
‘But, Victor, I must, must know.’
‘See the case. You have lots of courage. We can’t withdraw.
Her intention is mischief. I believe the woman keeps herself
alive for it: we’ve given her another lease!—though it can
only be for a very short time; Themison is precise; Carling
too. If we hold back—I have great faith in Themison—the
woman’s breath on us is confirmed. We go down, then; complete
the furnishing, quite leisurely; accept—listen—accept
one or two invitations: impossible to refuse!—but they are
accepted! —and we defy her: a crazy old creature: imagines
herself the wife of the ex-Premier, widow of Prince Le Boo,
engaged to the Chinese Ambassador, et caetera. Leave the
tussle with that woman to me. No, we don’t repeat the error
of Crayc Farm and Creckholt. And here we have stout friends.
Not to speak of Beaver Urmsing: a picture of Old Christmas
England! You took to him?—must have taken to Beaver
Urmsing! The Marigolds! And Sir Rodwell and Lady
Blachington are altogether above the mark of Sir Humphrey
and Lady Pottil, and those half and half Mountneys. There’s
a warm centre of home in Lakelands. But I know my Nataly:
211