“If you mean as regards her moral conduct, certainly not,” said Lady Lufton. “But I could say as much as that in favour of a great many young ladies whom I should regard as very ill suited for such a marriage.”
“Yes; some might be vulgar, some might be ill-tempered, some might be ugly; others might be burdened with disagreeable connections. I can understand that you should object to a daughter-in-law under any of these circumstances. But none of these things can be said of Miss Robarts. I defy you to say that she is not in all respects what a lady should be.”
But her father was a doctor of medicine, she is the sister of the parish clergyman, she is only five feet two in height, and is so uncommonly brown! Had Lady Lufton dared to give a catalogue of her objections, such would have been its extent and nature. But she did not dare to do this.
“I cannot say, Ludovic, that she is possessed of all that you should seek in a wife.” Such was her answer.
“Do you mean that she has not got money?”
“No, not that; I should be very sorry to see you making money your chief object, or indeed any essential object. If it chanced that your wife did have money, no doubt you would find it a convenience. But pray understand me, Ludovic; I would not for a moment advise you to subject your happiness to such a necessity as that. It is not because she is without fortune—”
“Then why is it? At breakfast you were singing her praises, and saying how excellent she is.”
“If I were forced to put my objection into one word, I should say—” and then she paused, hardly daring to encounter the frown which was already gathering itself on her son’s brow.
“You would say what?” said Lord Lufton, almost roughly.
“Don’t be angry with me, Ludovic; all that I think, and all that I say on this subject, I think and say with only one object—that of your happiness. What other motive can I have for anything in this world?” And then she came close to him and kissed him.