to see that
it went from Carbury to Carbury as long as there was a Carbury to hold
it, and especially his duty to see that it should go from his hands,
at his death, unimpaired in extent or value. There was no reason why
he should himself die for the next twenty or thirty years,--but were he
to die Sir Felix would undoubtedly dissipate the acres, and then there
would be an end of Carbury. But in such case he, Roger Carbury, would
at any rate have done his duty. He knew that no human arrangements can
be fixed, let the care in making them be ever so great. To his
thinking it would be better that the estate should be dissipated by a
Carbury than held together by a stranger. He would stick to the old
name while there was one to bear it, and to the old family while a
member of it was left. So thinking, he had already made his will,
leaving the entire property to the man whom of all others he most
despised, should he himself die without child.

In the afternoon of the day on which Lady Carbury was expected, he
wandered about the place thinking of all this. How infinitely better
it would be that he should have an heir of his own! How wonderfully
beautiful would the world be to him if at last his cousin would
consent to be his wife! How wearily insipid must it be if no such
consent could be obtained from her! And then he thought much of her
welfare too. In very truth he did not like Lady Carbury. He saw
through her character, judging her with almost absolute accuracy. The
woman was affectionate, seeking good things for others rather than for
herself; but she was essentially worldly, believing that good could
come out of evil, that falsehood might in certain conditions be better
than truth, that shams and pretences might do the work of true
service, that a strong house might be built upon the sand! It was
lamentable to him that the girl he loved should be subjected to this
teaching, and live in an atmosphere so burdened with falsehood. Would
not the touch of pitch at last defile her? In his heart of hearts he
believed that she loved Paul Montague; and of Paul himself he was
beginning to fear evil. What but a sham could be a man who consented
to pretend to sit as one of a Board of Directors to manage an enormous
enterprise with such colleagues as Lord Alfred Grendall and Sir Felix
Carbury, under the absolute control of such a one as Mr Augustus
Melmotte? Was not this building a house upon the sand with a
vengeance? What a life