As to the daughters, he had ridiculed them all from time
to time--even Alexandrina, whom he now professed to love. Perhaps
in some sort of way he had a weak fondness for her;--but it was a
fondness that had never touched his heart. He could measure the
whole thing at its worth,--Courcy Castle with its privileges, Lady
Dumbello, Lady Clandidlem, and the whole of it. He knew that he had
been happier on that lawn at Allington, and more contented with
himself, than ever he had been even under Lady Hartletop's splendid
roof in Shropshire. Lady Dumbello was satisfied with these things,
even in the inmost recesses of her soul; but he was not a male Lady
Dumbello. He knew that there was something better, and that that
something was within his reach.
But, nevertheless, the air of Courcy was too much for him. In arguing
the matter with himself he regarded himself as one infected with
a leprosy from which there could be no recovery, and who should,
therefore, make his whole life suitable to the circumstances of that
leprosy. It was of no use for him to tell himself that the Small
House at Allington was better than Courcy Castle.
Pages:
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361