Dudley Sowerby’s defection was hinted at and accounted for, by the worldly test of worldly considerations.
What were they?—Nesta glanced.
An indistinct comparison was modestly presented, of one unmoved by worldly considerations.
But what were they? She was wakened by a lamp, and her darkness was all inflammable to it.
‘Oh! Mr. Barmby, you have done me the honour to speak before; you know my answer,’ she said.
‘You were then subject to an influence. A false, I may say wicked, sentiment upholding celibacy.’
‘My poor Louise? She never thought of influencing me. She has her views, I mine. Our friendship does not depend on a “treaty of reciprocity.” We are one at heart, each free to judge and act, as it should be in friendship. I heard from her this morning. Her brother will be able to resume his military duties next month. Then she will return to me.’
‘We propose!’ rejoined Mr. Barmby.
Beholding the involuntary mercurial rogue-dimple he had started from a twitch at the corner, of her lips, the good gentleman pursued: ‘Can we dare write our designs for the month to come? Ah!—I will say—Nesta! give me the hope I beg to have. See the seriousness. You are at liberty. That other has withdrawn his pretensions. We will not blame him. He is in expectation of exalted rank. Where there is any shadow...!’ Mr. Barmby paused on his outroll of the word; but immediately, not intending to weigh down his gentle hearer with the significance in it, resumed at a yet more sonorous depth: ‘He is under the obligation to his family; an old, a venerable family. In the full blaze of public opinion! His conduct can be palliated by us, too. There is a right and wrong in minor things, independent of the higher rectitude. We pardon, we can partly support, the worldly view.’
‘There is a shadow?’ said Nesta; and her voice was lurefully encouraging.