“Let me tell you then that, if it is possible in the circumstances, Agnes ought to give Beauclerk his release. It would be no more than his right to demand this.”
“A right is something independent of circumstances, and paramount to them. But when you once talk of your rights and your wrongs in love, all love is gone, or going. I hope it hasn't come to that—with Reckage!”
“You have great knowledge of him and know how to press it home when you choose. Can't you see, plainly enough, that he is on the road to disaster?”
“No. One may easily be a long way from happiness and still be nowhere near disaster,” he said, checking a deep sigh. “Of course, if he feels that he cannot in honour remain in his present situation, he must act at once. Men who are desirous to satisfy all their friends soon become irresolute on every occasion. That is all I shall say upon the subject, and this, perhaps, may be saying more than I ought.”
“Another reproof! So be it. But I am thinking of his contentment, and you are thinking of his duty. What is duty? It generally means that which your acquaintances—for no reason and without warrant—expect of you. I take a larger view.”
“People of Beauclerk's stamp are so constituted that they can rarely find contentment by defying a general opinion.”
“But Agnes is not a pretty, crying, fluttering creature who would excite compassion. Who, for instance, could jilt Pensée? I don't wish Beauclerk to jilt anybody, however. I want Agnes to take the step.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because he will break his heart and die—if she doesn't. There!”
“Then it will be your fault.”