I did not love him."
"You refused him?"
"Yes; I refused a live lord. There is some satisfaction in having
that to think of, is there not? Fanny, was I wicked to tell that
falsehood?"
"And why did you refuse him?"
"Why? Can you ask? Think what it would have been to go down
to Framley Court, and to tell her ladyship, in the course of
conversation, that I was engaged to her son. Think of Lady Lufton.
But yet it was not that, Fanny. Had I thought that it was good
for him, that he would not have repented, I would have braved
anything--for his sake. Even your frown, for you would have frowned.
You would have thought it sacrilege for me to marry Lord Lufton! You
know you would."
Mrs. Robarts hardly knew how to say what she thought, or indeed what
she ought to think. It was a matter on which much meditation would be
required before she could give advice, and there was Lucy expecting
counsel from her at that very moment. If Lord Lufton really loved
Lucy Robarts, and was loved by Lucy Robarts, why should not they two
become man and wife? And yet she did feel that it would be--perhaps
not sacrilege, as Lucy had said, but something almost as troublesome.
What would Lady Lufton say, or think, or feel? What would she say,
and think, and feel as to that parsonage from which so deadly a blow
would fall upon her? Would she not accuse the vicar and the vicar's
wife of the blackest ingratitude? Would life be endurable at Framley
under such circumstances as those?
"What you tell me so surprises me, that I hardly as yet know how to
speak about it," said Mrs. Robarts.
"It was amazing, was it not? He must have been insane at the time;
there can be no other excuse made for him. I wonder whether there is
anything of that sort in the family?"
"What; madness?" said Mrs. Robarts, quite in earnest.
"Well, don't you think he must have been mad when such an idea as
that came into his head? But you don't believe it; I can see that.
And yet it is as true as heaven. Standing exactly here, on this spot,
he said that he would persevere till I accepted his love. I wonder
what made me specially observe that both his feet were within the
lines of that division."
"And you would not accept his love?"
"No; I would have nothing to say to it. Look you, I stood here, and
putting my hand upon my heart--for he bade me to do that--I said that
I could not love him."
"And what then?"
"He went away--with a look as though he were heartbrok
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