One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

George Meredith
heavy man. More than Dartrey’s figure, as she would have
said, though the estimate came second, she liked his manner
with her. Not a doubt was there, that he read her position.
She could impose upon some: not upon masculine eyes like
these. They did not scrutinize, nor ruffle a smooth surface
with a snap at petty impressions; and they were not cynically
intimate or dominating or tentatively amorous: clear good
fellowship was in them. And it was a blessedness (whatever
might be her feeling later, when she came to thank him at
heart) to be in the presence of a man whose appearance
breathed of offering her common ground, whereon to meet
and speak together, unburdened by the hunting world, and
by the stoneing world. Such common ground seems a kind
of celestial to the better order of those excluded from it.
Dartrey relieved her midway in a rigid practice of the formalities:
‘I think I may guess that you have something to tell
me relating to Miss Radnor?’
‘It is.’ Mrs. Marsett gathered up for an immediate plunge,
and deferred it. ‘I met her—we went out with the ridingmaster.
She took to me. I like her—I could say’ (the woman’s
voice dropped dead low, in a tremble), ‘I love her. She is
young: I could kneel to her. Do you know a Major Worrell?’
‘Worrell? no.’
‘He is a-calls himself a friend of my—of Captain Marsett’s.
He met us out one day.’
‘He permitted himself to speak to Miss Radnor?’
She rejoiced in Dartrey’s look. ‘Not then. First let me tell
you. I can hardly tell you. But Miss Radnor tells me you are
not like other men. You have made your conclusions already.
Are you asking what right I had to be knowing her? It is her
goodness. Accident began it; I did not deceive her; as soon as
ever I could I—I have Captain Marsett’s promise to me: at
present he’s situated, he—but I opened my heart to her: as
much as a woman can. It came! Did I do very wrong?’
‘I’m not here to decide: continue, pray.’
Mrs. Marsett aimed at formal speech, and was driving upon
her natural in anger. ‘I swear I did it for the best. She is an
innocent girl … young lady: only she has a head; she soon
reads things. I saw the kind of cloud in her. I spoke. I felt
bound to: she said she would not forsake me.—I was bound
to! And it was enough to break my heart, to think of her
despising me. No, she forgave, pitied;—she was kind. Those
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