The rumour came to Lady Blandish. She likewise lectured Richard, and with her he condescended to argue. But he found himself obliged to instance something he had quite neglected. “Instead of her doing me harm, it’s I that will do her good.”
Lady Blandish shook her head and held up her finger. “This person must be very clever to have given you that delusion, dear.”
“She is clever. And the world treats her shamefully.”
“She complains of her position to you?”
“Not a word. But I will stand by her. She has no friend but me.”
“My poor boy! has she made you think that?”
“How unjust you all are!” cried Richard.
“How mad and wicked is the man who can let him be tempted so!” thought Lady Blandish.
He would pronounce no promise not to visit her, not to address her publicly. The world that condemned her and cast her out was no better—worse for its miserable hypocrisy. He knew the world now, the young man said.
“My child! the world may be very bad. I am not going to defend it. But you have some one else to think of. Have you forgotten you have a wife, Richard?”