“Elma, you pray every night to be delivered from temptation—consider what your position would be if you married Mr Greville! Ask yourself if you are strong enough to resist pride and selfishness, and absorption in the things of this world. Many would say that it was a great match for you, but I would rather see you settled in a cottage with enough money for your daily needs. It is easier for a camel—”
Elma interrupted quickly.
“I don’t think you need be afraid, mother. I love beautiful things, but truly and honestly I believe they are good for me! It is a little difficult to explain, but ugly things—inartistic things, jar! They make me feel cross and discontented, while beauty is a joy! I need not become proud and self-engrossed because the things around me are beautiful and rich with associations. On the contrary, they ought to do me good. I’d love them so, and be so thankful, that I should want other people to enjoy them, too. It isn’t riches themselves that one cares for—it is the things that riches can give!”
Madame had been watching the girl’s face as she spoke, her own expression kindling in sympathy with views so entirely in accordance with her own, but at the last sentence her brows knitted.
“It’s not a case of riches, my dear!” she said quickly. “I don’t think you understand the position. Geoffrey is a poor man. The estate brings in little more than half what it did in his father’s time, and the expense of keeping it up increases rather than diminishes, as the buildings grow older. He ought to marry money. All these years we have lived in the expectation of a marriage which would pay up old scores, and put things on a better basis for the future. If he marries a girl without money he will have to face constant anxiety and trouble.”
Elma turned to her mother, her delicate brow puckered in anxiety.
“I shall have some money, shan’t I, mother? You told me that father left some provision for me on my marriage!”
“You are to have three thousand pounds paid down if you marry with my consent. My income is largely derived from an annuity, Mrs Greville, but there will be about another five thousand to come to Elma after death.”
Madame bowed her head in gracious patronage.
“Very nice, I’m sure! A very nice little sum for pin money, but quite useless for our purposes. Don’t hate me, Elma—I am the most unmercenary of women—Geoffrey will tell you that I am always getting into debt!—but when a man is the owner of a property—which has descended to him from generations of ancestors, his first duty is to it. Noblesse oblige! It is not right to allow it to fall into disrepair for a matter of sentiment!”