“I did not know my cousin detested the clergy to such a degree,” said Eugénie, with an air of mockery and disdain which convinced Albert he had made a fresh blunder. “I thought, on the contrary, you had a sincere respect for priests. It seems I was deceived....”
“Enough on this point,” said Mr. Smithson. “I will see Adams, and learn from him what has occurred. And I will speak to the engineer accordingly when he returns.”
This conversation took place in the evening. Mme. Smithson was present. She did not speak, but was extremely irritated. Eugénie little thought she had caused her mother as great an affliction as she had ever experienced in her life. For ten, perhaps fifteen, years, Mme. Smithson had clung to the idea of a match between her daughter and nephew. She had taken comfort in the thought of uniting the two beings she loved best on earth. Besides, it was a good way, and the only one in her power, of securing to Albert a fortune he had need of; for the career he had embraced, and the tastes he had imbibed, made it necessary he should be wealthy, which was by no means the case. This plan till lately had been confined to Mme. Smithson’s own breast; but, since Albert’s arrival, she had ventured to allude to it in her conversations with him. The latter responded with enthusiastic gratitude, expressing an ardent desire to have the proposed union realized. Alas! from the beginning there had been one difficulty which fretted Mme. Smithson. Would her husband approve of her scheme? As Albert approached manhood, this consent became more and more doubtful. Mr. Smithson treated his nephew kindly, but had no great opinion of him, and did not like him. How overcome this obstacle? There was only one way: Eugénie herself must desire the marriage. Mr. Smithson never opposed his daughter, and would then overlook his antipathy to the object of her choice. Things were having a very different tendency. Mme. Smithson had long tried to hide the fact from herself, but she must at last acknowledge it: Eugénie manifested no partiality for her cousin. This evening’s occurrence banished all illusion. She not only saw Eugénie had not the least thought of marrying Albert, but she suspected her of loving another, ... a man Mme. Smithson could no longer endure. He had in her eyes three faults, any one of which would have set her against him: he was her dear nephew’s rival, he had no property, and he was grave and pious to a degree that could not fail to be repulsive to a trivial woman and a half-way Christian like her. To complete her despair, Albert came secretly to see her that very same evening.
“Aunt,” said he, “our affairs are getting on badly!... Confess that I had more penetration than you were willing to allow.”
“What! what! what do you mean? Do you think Eugénie loves that spendthrift, that bigot?... Nonsense! she only wishes to tease you.”
“I am of a different opinion. I have long been aware of her fancy for him. What she said in his favor this evening was very judicious and moderate, but there was in the tone of her voice, ... in her look, a something I could not mistake. For the first time, she betrayed her feelings. I tell you she loves him!”
“Why, that would be dreadful!”
“I foresaw it.”
“Foresaw!—such a thing?”
“Eugénie is romantic, and the rogue puts on the air of a hero of romance.”