‘Have you nothing to say, Constance?’ asked the young man. ‘Do you not envy me my happy lot? My bride is not young to be sure, but she is a Duchess; the old Earldom will be lost in the new Duchy. She has buried three husbands already; one may look forward with joy to lying beside them in her gorgeous mausoleum. Her country house is finer than mine, but it is not so old. She is of rank so exalted that one need not inquire into her temper, which is said to be evil; nor into the little faults, such as jealousy, suspicion, meanness, greed, and avarice, with which the wicked world credits her.’
‘Edward! Edward!’ cried his cousin.
‘Then, again, one’s religion will be so beautifully brought into play. We are required to obey—that is the first thing taught in the Church catechism; all women are set in authority over us. I must therefore obey the Chancellor.’
His hearers were silent.
‘Again, what says the text?—“It is man’s chiefest honour to be chosen: his highest duty to give, wherever bidden, his love, his devotion, and his loyalty.” ’
The Professor nodded her head gravely.
‘What martyrs of religion would ask for a more noble opportunity,’ he asked, ‘than to marry this old woman?’
‘Edward!’ Constance could only warn. She sees no way to advise. ‘Do not scoff.’
‘Let us face the position,’ said the Professor. ‘The Chancellor has gone through the form of asking your consent to this marriage. When?’
‘Last night.’