Framley Parsonage Anthony Trollope (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📖

“Well, your husband’s. It would not be fair to show a man’s letters; but I should like to show you his.”

“You are determined, then, to remain single?”

“I didn’t say that. But why do you cross-question me so?”

“Because I think so much about you. I am afraid that you will become so afraid of men’s motives as to doubt that anyone can be honest. And yet sometimes I think you would be a happier woman and a better woman, if you were married.”

“To such an one as the Honourable George, for instance?”

“No, not to such an one as him; you have probably picked out the worst.”

“Or to Mr. Sowerby?”

“Well, no; not to Mr. Sowerby, either. I would not have you marry any man that looked to you for your money principally.”

“And how is it possible that I should expect anyone to look to me principally for anything else? You don’t see my difficulty, my dear? If I had only five hundred a year, I might come across some decent middle-aged personage, like myself, who would like me, myself, pretty well, and would like my little income⁠—pretty well also. He would not tell me any violent lie, and perhaps no lie at all. I should take to him in the same sort of way, and we might do very well. But, as it is, how is it possible that any disinterested person should learn to like me? How could such a man set about it? If a sheep have two heads, is not the fact of the two heads the first and, indeed, only thing which the world regards in that sheep? Must it not be so as a matter of course? I am a sheep with two heads. All this money which my father put together, and which has been growing since like grass under May showers, has turned me into an abortion. I am not the giantess eight feet high, or the dwarf that stands in the man’s hand⁠—”

“Or the two-headed sheep⁠—”

“But I am the unmarried woman with⁠—half a dozen millions of money⁠—as I believe some people think. Under such circumstances have I a fair chance of getting my own sweet bit of grass to nibble, like any ordinary animal with one head? I never was very beautiful, and I am not more so now than I was fifteen years ago.”

“I am quite sure it is not that which hinders it. You would not call yourself plain; and even plain women are married every day, and are loved, too, as well as pretty women.”

“Are they? Well, we won’t say more about that; but I don’t expect a great many lovers on account of my beauty. If ever you hear of such an one, mind you tell me.”

It was almost on Mrs. Gresham’s tongue to say that she did know of one such⁠—meaning her uncle. But in truth, she did not know any such thing; nor could she boast to herself that she had good grounds for feeling that it was so⁠—certainly none sufficient to justify her in speaking of it. Her uncle had said no word to her on the matter, and had been confused and embarrassed when the idea of such a marriage was hinted to him. But, nevertheless, Mrs. Gresham did think that each of these two was well inclined to love the other, and that they would be happier together than they would be single. The difficulty, however, was very great, for the doctor would be terribly afraid of being thought covetous in regard to Miss Dunstable’s money; and it would hardly be expected that she should be induced to make the first overture to the doctor.

“My uncle would be the only man that I can think of that would be at all fit for you,” said Mrs. Gresham, boldly.

“What, and rob poor Lady Scatcherd!” said Miss Dunstable.

“Oh, very well. If you choose to make a joke of his name in that way, I have done.”

“Why, God bless the girl! what does she want me to say? And as for joking, surely that is innocent enough. You’re as tender about the doctor as though he were a girl of seventeen.”

“It’s not about him; but it’s such a shame to laugh at poor dear Lady Scatcherd. If she were to hear it she’d lose all comfort in having my uncle near her.”

“And I’m to marry him, so that she may be safe with her friend!”

“Very well; I have done.” And Mrs. Gresham, who had already got up from her seat, employed herself very sedulously in arranging flowers which had been brought in for the drawing-room tables. Thus they remained silent for a minute or two, during which she began to reflect that, after all, it might probably be thought that she also was endeavouring to catch the great heiress for her uncle.

“And now you are angry with me,” said Miss Dunstable.

“No, I am not.”

“Oh, but you are. Do you think I’m such a fool as not to see when a person’s vexed? You wouldn’t have twitched that geranium’s head off if you’d been in a proper frame of mind.”

“I don’t like that joke about Lady Scatcherd.”

“And is that all, Mary? Now do try and be true, if you can. You remember the bishop? Magna est veritas.”

“The fact is you’ve got into such a way of being sharp, and saying sharp things among your friends up in London, that you can hardly answer a person without it.”

“Can’t I? Dear, dear, what a Mentor you are, Mary! No poor lad that ever ran up from Oxford for a spree in town got so lectured for his dissipation and iniquities as I do. Well, I beg Dr. Thorne’s pardon, and Lady Scatcherd’s, and I won’t be sharp any more; and I will⁠—let me see, what was it I was to do? Marry him myself, I believe; was not that it?”

“No; you’re not half good enough for him.”

“I know that. I’m quite sure of that. Though I am so sharp, I’m very humble. You can’t accuse