Mrs. Gascoigne became suddenly very red; her hand shook a little.
"He will set us free—we will marry in six months, and begin a new existence. What a maddening thing life is—a mass of mistakes. One's hands are tied, and fate comes and mocks at us—but I intend to cut the cords. Here is Elinor's life wasted with a boor, who values her less than a quire of foolscap, whilst I would lay down my life for her." In the midst of this heroic speech potatoes were offered and declined.
"Listen," he continued eagerly, "my plan is this——"
"Hush," said Angel, "not so loud. Mrs. Crabbe opposite is exhibiting the liveliest interest in your conversation,—and I don't want to hear any more."
"You must hear," he said inflexibly.
"Well, if I must, I suppose I must. I cannot escape from the table—I won't agree with one word you say—so you are warned."
"I want Elinor to come to England with me. I am now a wealthy man; after six months she will become my wife, and we shall be unutterably happy."
"For a year—perhaps, and then you will both begin to realise your mistake; you will regret your career, and she will be grieving for her downfall. You will be each other's punishment; Elinor will feel intense remorse, knowing what her evil example means to so many, and that her life's work is destroyed. She will become old, worn, and unsatisfied, and you will be disillusioned."
"You talk like a seer, Mrs. Gascoigne," he sneered.
"I am far-sighted," she admitted quietly.