One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

George Meredith
the City to discuss the candidature for the South London
borough, named her Fredi, that he might regain a vantage of
familiarity by imitating her father, it struck Victor as audacious.
It jarred in his recollection, though the heir of the
earldom spoke in the tone of a lover, was really at high pitch.
He appeared to be appreciating her, to have suffered stings
of pain; he offered himself; he made but one stipulation.
Victor regretfully assured him, he feared he could do nothing.
The thought of his entry into Lakelands, with Nesta
Victoria refusing the foundation stone of the place, grew dim.
But he was now canvassing for the Borough, hearty at the
new business as the braced swimmer on seas, which instantly
he became, with an end in view to be gained.
Late one April night, expecting Nataly to have gone to
bed, and Nesta to be waiting for him, he reached home, and
found Nataly in her sitting-room alone. ‘Nesta was tired,’
she said: ‘we have had a scene; she refuses Mr. Sowerby; I am
sick of pressing it; he is very much in earnest, painfully; she
blames him for disturbing me; she will not see the right
course:—a mother reads her daughter! If my girl has not
guidance!—she means rightly, she is rash.’
Nataly could not utter all that her insaneness of feeling
made her think with regard to Victor’s daughter—daughter
also of the woman whom her hard conscience accused of
inflammability. ‘Here is a note from Dr. Themison, dear.’
Victor seized it, perused, and drew the big breath.
‘From Themison,’ he said; he coughed.
‘Don’t think to deceive me,’ said she. ‘I have not read the
contents, I know them.’
‘The invitation at last, for to-morrow, Sunday, four P.M.
Odd, that next day at eight of the evening I shall be addressing
our meeting in the Theatre. Simeon speaks. Beaves
Urmsing insists on coming, Tory though he is. Those Tories
are jollier fellows than—well, no wonder! There will be no
surgical … the poor woman is very low. A couple of days at
the outside. Of course, I go.’
‘Hand me the note, dear.’
It had to be given up, out of the pocket.
‘But,’ said Victor, ‘the mention of you is merely formal.’
She needed sleep: she bowed her head.
Nataly was the first at the breakfast-table in the morning,
a fair Sunday morning. She was going to Mrs. John Cormyn’s
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