One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

George Meredith
ignoring the sins it fosters under cloak;—not less than did
the naked barbaric time, and far more to the vitiation of the
soul. He fancied he was moulding her; therefore winning
her. It followed, that he had the lover’s desire for assurance
of exclusive possession; and reflecting, that he had greatly
pardoned, he grew exacting. He mentioned his objections to
some of Mr. Dartrey Fenellan’s ideas.
Nesta replied: ‘I have this morning had two letters to make
me happy.’
A provoking evasion. He would rather have seen antagonism
bridle and stiffen her figure. ‘Is one of them from that
gentleman?’
‘One is from my dear friend Louise de Seilles. She comes
to me early next month.’
‘The other?’
‘The other is also from a friend.’
‘A dear friend?’
‘Not so dear. Her letter gives me happiness.’
‘She writes—not from France: from …? you tempt me to
guess.’
‘She writes to tell me, that Mr. Dartrey Fenellan has helped
her in a way to make her eternally thankful.’
‘The place she writes from is … ?’
The drag of his lips betrayed his enlightenment insisted
on doubting. He demanded assurance.
‘It matters in no degree,’ she said.
Dudley ‘thought himself excusable for inquiring.’
She bowed gently.
The stings and scorpions and degrading itches of this nest
of wealthy Bohemians enraged him.
‘Are you—I beg to ask—are you still:—I can hardly think
it—Nesta!—I surely have a claim to advise:—it cannot be
with your mother’s consent:—in communication, in correspondence
with … ?’
Again she bowed her head; saying: ‘It is true.’
‘With that person?’
He could not but look the withering disgust of the modern
world in a conservative gentleman who has been lured to
go with it a little way, only to be bitten. ‘I decline to believe
it,’ he said with forcible sound.
‘She is married,’ was the rather shameless, exasperating answer.
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