One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

One of Our Conquerors
In the morning she was heavily asleep. Victor left word
with Nesta, that the dear mother was not to be disturbed.
Consequently, when Dudley called to see Mrs. Victor Radnor,
he was informed that Miss Radnor would receive him.
Their interview lasted an hour.
Dudley came to Victor in the City about luncheon time.
His perplexity of countenance was eloquent. He had, before
seeing the young lady, digested an immense deal more,
as it seemed to him, than any English gentleman should be
asked to consume. She now referred him to her father, who
had spent a day in Brighton, and would, she said, explain
whatever there was to be explained. But she added, that if
she was expected to abandon a friend, she could not. Dudley
had argued with her upon the nature of friendship, the measurement
of its various dues; he had lectured on the choice
of friends, the impossibility for young ladies, necessarily inexperienced,
to distinguish the right class of friends, the dangers
they ran in selecting friends unwarranted by the stamp
of honourable families.
‘And what did Fredi say to that?’ Victor inquired.
‘Miss Radnor said—I may be dense, I cannot comprehend—that
the precepts were suitable for seminaries of Pharisees.
When it is a question of a young lady associating with a
notorious woman!’
‘Not notorious. You spoil your case if you “speak extremely,”
as a friend says. I saw her yesterday. She worships “Miss
Radnor.”’
Nesta will know when she is older; she will thank me,’ said
Dudley hurriedly. ‘As it is at present, I may reckon, I hope,
that the association ceases. Her name: I have to consider my
family.’
‘Good anchorage! You must fight it out with the girl. And
depend upon this—you’re not the poorer for being the husband
of a girl of character; unless you try to bridle her. She
belongs to her time. I don’t mind owning to you, she has
given me a lead.—Fredi ‘ll be merry to-night. Here’s a letter
I have from the Sanfredini, dated Milan, fresh this morning;
invitation to bring the god-child to her villa on Como in
May; desirous to embrace her. She wrote to the office. Not a
word of her duque. She has pitched him to the winds. You
may like to carry it off to Fredi and please her.’
‘I have business,’ Dudley replied.
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