One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

George Meredith
Nataly took his embrace.
‘Nothing wrong?’ he said, and saw the something. It was a
favourable moment to tell her what she might not at another
time regard as a small affair. ‘News in the City to-day
of that South London borough being vacated. Quatley urges
me. A death again! I saw Pempton, too. Will you credit me
when I tell you he carries his infatuation so far, that he has
been investing in Japanese and Chinese Loans, because they
are less meat-eaters than others, and vegetarians are more
stable, and outlast us all!—Dudley the visitor?’ ‘Mr. Sowerby
has been here,’ she said, in a shaking low voice.
Victor held her hand and felt a squeeze more nervous than
affectionate.
‘To consult with me,’ she added. ‘My maid will go at ten
to bring Nesta; Mr. Durance I can count on, to see her safe
home. Ah!’ she wailed.
Victor nodded, saying: ‘I guess. And, my love, you will
receive Mrs. John Cormyn to-morrow morning. I can’t endure
gaps. Gaps in our circle must never be. Do I guess?—I
spoke to Colney about bringing her home.’
Nataly sighed: ‘Ah! make what provision we will! Evil—
Mr. Sowerby has had a great deal to bear.’
‘A worldling may think so.’
Her breast heaved, and the wave burst: but her restraining
of tears froze her speech.
‘Victor! Our Nesta! Mr. Sowerby is unable to explain. And
how the Miss Duvidneys! … At that Brighton!’—The voice
he heard was not his darling’s deep rich note, it had dropped
to toneless hoarseness: ‘She has been permitted to make acquaintance—she
has been seen riding with—she has called
upon—Oh! it is one of those abandoned women. In her
house! Our girl! Our Nesta! She was insulted by a man in
the woman’s house. She is talked of over Brighton. The
mother!—the daughter! And grant me this—that never was
girl more carefully … never till she was taken from me. Oh!
do not forget. You will defend me? You will say, that her
mother did with all her soul strive … It is not a rumour. Mr.
Sowerby has had it confirmed.’ A sob caught her voice.
Victor’s hands caressed to console: ‘Dudley does not propose
to …?’
‘Nesta must promise … But how it happened? How! An
acquaintance with—contact with!—Oh! cruel!’ Each time
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