“You mean with the curate's sister,” said Marion, with a saucy toss of her head. “I scarcely think he could be so absurd.”
“I can't see the absurdity,” broke in Ellen. “I think a duke might make her a duchess, and no great condescension in the act.”
“Quite true, Nelly,” said Temple; “that's exactly what a duke might do; but Mr. Bramleigh cannot. When you are at the top of the ladder, there's nothing left for you but to come down again; but the man at the bottom has to try to go up.”
“But why must there be a ladder at all, Temple?” asked she, eagerly.
“Is n't that speech Nelly all over?” cried Marion, haughtily.
“I hope it is,” said Ellen, “if it serves to convey what I faithfully believe,—that we are great fools in not enjoying a very pleasant lot in life instead of addressing ourselves to ambitions far and away beyond us.”
“And which be they?” asked Temple, crossing his arms over his mallet, and standing like a soldier on guard.
“To be high and titled, or if not titled, to be accepted among that class, and treated as their equals in rank and condition.”
“And why not, Nelly? What is this wonderful ten thousand that we all worship? Whence is it recruited, and how? These double wall-flowers are not of Nature's making; they all come of culture, of fine mould, careful watering, and good gardening. They were single-petaled once on a time, like ourselves. Mind, it is no radical says this, girls,—moi qui vous parle am no revolutionist, no leveller! I like these grand conditions, because they give existence its best stimulus, its noblest aspirations. The higher one goes in life,—as on a mountain,—the more pure the air and the wider the view.”
“And do you mean to tell me that Augustus would consult his happiness better in marrying some fine lady, like our grand step-mamma for instance, than a charming girl like Julia?” said Ellen.