st....I have come to make no demands--to utter no
threats; I have come simply as a father in great grief about this only
child, and I beseech you to deal kindly with my daughter, and to do
nothing which can turn her husband's heart away from her forever.
Forbid him your presence, ma'am, and speak to him on his duty as one
with your power over him well can do, and I am hopeful that the rent
between them may be patched up. For it is not as if you would lose by
so doing; your course is far higher than the courses of a simple
professional man, and the gratitude you would win from me and mine by
your kindness is more than I can say."
Mrs. Charmond had first rushed into a mood of indignation on
comprehending Melbury's story; hot and cold by turns, she had murmured,
"Leave me, leave me!" But as he seemed to take no notice of this, his
words began to influence her, and when he ceased speaking she said,
with hurried, hot breath, "What has led you to think this of me? Who
says I have won your daughter's husband away from her? Some monstrous
calumnies are afloat--of which I have known nothing until now!"
Melbury started, and looked at her simply. "But surely, ma'am, you
know the truth better than I?"
Her features became a little pinched, and the touches of powder on her
handsome face for the first time showed themselves as an extrinsic
film. "Will you leave me to myself?" she said, with a faintness which
suggested a guilty conscience. "This is so utterly unexpected--you
obtain admission to my presence by misrepresentation--"
"As God's in heaven, ma'am, that's not true. I made no pretence; and I
thought in reason you would know why I had come. This gossip--"
"I have heard nothing of it. Tell me of it, I say."
"Tell you, ma'am--not I. What the gossip is, no matter. What really
is, you know. Set facts right, and the scandal will right of itself.
But pardon me--I speak roughly; and I came to speak gently, to coax
you, beg you to be my daughter's friend. She loved you once, ma'am;
you began by liking her. Then you dropped her without a reason, and it
hurt her warm heart more than I can tell ye. But you were within your
right as the superior, no doubt. But if you would consider her
position now--surely, surely, you would do her no harm!"
"Certainly I would do her no harm--I--" Melbury's eye met hers. It was
curious, but the allusion to Grace's former love for her seemed to
touch her more than all Melbury's o
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