“And its merits are to be tested by figures, and not by Utopian dreams of felicity. Don't you think so?”
He bowed again, and smiled approvingly.
“I am aware,” said she, in a sort of half confusion, “what rashness it would be in me to say this to any one less largely minded than yourself; how I should expose myself to the censure of being narrow-hearted and worldly, and so forth; but I am not afraid of such judgments from you.”
“Nor have you need to dread them,” said he, in a voice a little above a whisper.
“Young ladies, like Miss Kellett, are often possessed by the ambition—a very laudable sentiment, no doubt—of distinguishing themselves by these opinions. It is, as it were, a 'trick of the time' we live in, and, with those who do not move in 'society,' has its success too.”
The peculiar intonation of that one word “society” gave the whole point and direction of this speech. There was in it that which seemed to say, “This is the real tribunal! Here is the one true court where claims are recognized and shams nonsuited.” Nor was it lost upon Mr. Davenport Dunn. More than once—ay, many a time before—had he been struck by the reference to that Star Chamber of the well-bred world. He had even heard a noble lord on the Treasury benches sneer down a sturdy champion of Manchesterism, by suggesting that in a certain circle, where the honorable gentleman never came, very different opinions prevailed from those announced by him.
While Dunn was yet pondering over this mystic word, Lord Glengariff came to say that, as Miss Kellett required his presence to look over some papers in the library, they might stroll slowly along till he overtook them.
As they sauntered along under the heavy shade of the great beech-trees, the sun streaking at intervals the velvety sward beneath their feet, while the odor of the fresh hay was wafted by on a faint light breeze, Dunn was unconsciously brought back in memory to the “long, long ago,” when he walked the self-same spot in a gloom only short of despair. Who could have predicted the day when he should stroll there, with her at his side, her arm within his own, her voice appealing in tones of confidence and friendship? His great ambitions had grown with his successes, and as he rose higher and higher, his aims continued to mount upwards; but here was a sentiment that dated from the time of his obscurity, here a day-dream that had filled his imagination when from imagination alone could be derived the luxury of triumph, and now it was realized, and now—
Who is to say what strange wild conflict went on within that heart where worldliness felt its sway for once disputed? Did there yet linger there, in the midst of high ambitions, some trait of boyish love, or was it that he felt this hour to be the crowning triumph of his long life of toil?
“If I were not half ashamed to disturb your revery,” said Lady Augusta, smiling, “I'd tell you to look at that view yonder. See where the coast stretches along there, broken by cliff and headland, with those rocky islands breaking the calm sea-line, and say if you saw anything finer in your travels abroad?”