ver. Mr Broune sidled away, and Mr Melmotte was left standing in the
middle of the room. Lady Carbury told herself at the moment that Rome
was not built in a day. She would have been better satisfied certainly
if she could have laid a few more bricks on this day. Perseverance,
however, was the thing wanted.

But Mr Melmotte himself had a word to say, and before he left the
house he said it. 'It was very good of you to ask me, Lady Carbury;--
very good.' Lady Carbury intimated her opinion that the goodness was
all on the other side. 'And I came,' continued Mr Melmotte, 'because I
had something particular to say. Otherwise I don't go out much to
evening parties. Your son has proposed to my daughter.' Lady Carbury
looked up into his face with all her eyes;--clasped both her hands
together; and then, having unclasped them, put one upon his sleeve.

'My daughter, ma'am, is engaged to another man.'

'You would not enslave her affections, Mr Melmotte?'

'I won't give her a shilling if she marries any one else; that's all.
You reminded me down at Caversham that your son is a Director at our
Board.'

'I did;--I did.'

'I have a great respect for your son, ma'am. I don't want to hurt him
in any way. If he'll signify to my daughter that he withdraws from
this offer of his, because I'm against it, I'll see that he does
uncommon well in the city. I'll be the making of him. Good night,
ma'am.' Then Mr Melmotte took his departure without another word.

Here at any rate was an undertaking on the part of the great man that
he would be the 'making of Felix,' if Felix would only obey him,--
accompanied, or rather preceded, by a most positive assurance that if
Felix were to succeed in marrying his daughter he would not give his
son-in-law a shilling! There was very much to be considered in this.
She did not doubt that Felix might be 'made' by Mr Melmotte's city
influences, but then any perpetuity of such making must depend on
qualifications in her son which she feared that he did not possess.
The wife without the money would be terrible! That would be absolute
ruin! There could be no escape then; no hope. There was an
appreciation of real tragedy in her heart while she contemplated the
position of Sir Felix married to such a girl as she supposed Marie
Melmotte to be, without any means of support for either of them but
what she could supply. It would kill her. And for those young people
there would be nothing before them, but beggar