‘My dear lady,’ said old Mr. Sommerville, ‘if I have appeared rude I am unpardonable. But you’ll forgive me? I mean nothing but your good. And all I want is a little prudence—the ordinary precautions.’
‘I will none of them!’ she said, with a flush of indignation. ‘I have nothing to be afraid of, and I will not pretend to be prudent, as you call it. Let the world think or say what it pleases—it is nothing to me.’
Then there was a pause, and Mrs. Meredith betook herself to her work—a woman’s safety-valve, and laboured as if for a wager, while the old plenipotentiary sat opposite to her, confounded and abashed, as she thought. But Mr. Sommerville was too old and experienced to be much abashed by anything. He sat silent, collecting his forces for a renewed attack. That was all. He had a sincere friendship for her in his way, and was as anxious to prevent scandal as any father could have been; and now it occurred to him that he had begun at the wrong end, as he said. Women were kittle cattle. He had failed when he dwelt upon the danger to herself. Perhaps he might succeed better if he represented the danger to him.
‘I have made a mistake,’ said the hypocritical old man. ‘It can do no harm to you, all that has come and gone. I was thinking of my own selfish kind that give most weight to what affects themselves, and I am rightly punished. A lady sans reproche like yourself may well be sans peur. But that is not the whole question, my dear madam. There is the man to be considered.’
When he said this she raised her eyes, which had been fixed on her work, and looked at him with some anxiety, which was so much gained.
‘You will not doubt my word when I say there’s a great difference between men and women,’ said the old diplomatist. ‘What is innocent for one is often very dangerous for the other, and vice versâ: you will not deny that.’
Then he made a pause, and looking at her for reply, received a sign of assent to his vague proposition, which indeed was safe enough.
‘How can you tell that Mr. Beresford receives as pure benevolence all the kindness you show him? It is very unusual kindness. You are kind to everybody, madam, above the ordinary level; and human creatures are curious—they think it is their merit that makes you good to them, not your own bounty.’
She did not make any reply, but continued to look at him. Her attention at least was secured.
‘If I were to tell you the instances of this that have come under my own observation! I have known a poor creature who got much kindness in a house on account of his defects and deficiencies, and because everybody was sorry for him; who gave it out, if you’ll believe me, and really thought, that what his kind friends wanted was to marry him to the daughter of the house! It’s not uncommon, and I dare say, without going further, that you can remember things—which perhaps you have laughed at——’