‘You are come to try your powers, I suppose?’ he said. ‘Well; have your say. But remember, no power on earth shall make me marry that detestable old woman.’
‘Algernon!’ cried his younger sister. ‘Is it possible that you ... you ... our own brother, should use these words?’
‘A great deal more is possible. I, for one, protest against this abominable sale of men in marriage. I am put up in the market; this rich old lawyer, with a skin of parchment, blood of ink, heart of brown paper, buys me: I will not be bought. Go, tell my mother that she may do her worst. I will not marry the woman.’
‘If you will not think of yourself,’ said his elder sister coldly, ‘pray think of us. Our guests are invited,—they are already assembling in the church; listen—there are the bells!’
‘I should like,’ said Algy laughing,—‘I should like to see the face of Frederica Roe in half an hour’s time.’
The two girls looked at each other in dismay. What was to be done? what could be said?
‘You two little hypocrites!’ he went on. ‘you and your goody talk about the day of happiness! and the humbugging hymn! and your sham and mockery of the Perfect Woman! and your reign of the Intellect! Wait a little, my sisters; I promise you a pleasing change in the monotony of your lives.’
‘Sister,’ said the younger, ‘he blasphemes. We must leave him. Oh, unhappy boy! what fate are you preparing for yourself?’
‘Come,’ answered the elder. ‘Come away, my dear. Algernon, if you disgrace us this day, you shall be no more brother of mine; I renounce you.’
They left him. Presently his father came back.