"He did not think of it."
"A gentleman should do more than not think of it. He should think that it shall not be so. A man should own his means or should earn them."
"How many men, sir, do neither?"
"Yes; I know," said the Duke. "Such a doctrine nowadays is caviare to the general. One must live as others live around one, I suppose. I could not see her suffer. It was too much for me. When I became convinced that this was no temporary passion, no romantic love which time might banish, that she was of such a temperament that she could not change,—then I had to give way. Gerald, I suppose, will bring me some kitchen-maid for his wife."
"Oh, sir, you should not say that to me."
"No;—I should not have said it to you. I beg your pardon, Silverbridge." Then he paused a moment, turning over certain thoughts within his own bosom. "Perhaps, after all, it is well that a pride of which I am conscious should be rebuked. And it may be that the rebuke has come in such a form that I should be thankful. I know that I can love Isabel."
"That to me will be everything."
"And this young man has nothing that should revolt me. I think he has been wrong. But now that I have said it I will let all that pass from me. He will dine with us to-day."
Silverbridge then went up to see his sister. "So you have settled your little business, Mary?"
"Oh, Silverbridge, you will wish me joy?"