'False? Of course it is false, false as the father of falsehood--if indeed falsehoods need a sire and are not self-begotten since the world began. You are ready to sacrifice the world for love? Come let us see what you will sacrifice. I care nothing for nuptial vows. The wretch, I think you were kind enough to call him so, whom I swore to love and obey, is so base that he can only be thought of with repulsive disgust. In the council chamber of my heart I have divorced him. To me that is as good as though aged lords had gloated for months over the details of his licentious life. I care nothing for what the world can say. Will you be as frank? Will you take me to your home as your wife? Will you call me Mrs Slope before bishop, dean, and prebendaries?' The poor tortured wretch stood silent, not knowing what to say. 'What! You won't do that.
Tell me then, what part of the world is it that you will sacrifice for my charms?'
'Were you free to marry, I would take you to my house to-morrow and wish no higher privilege.'
'I am free;' said she, almost starting up in her energy. For though there was no truth in her pretended regard for her clerical admirer, there was a mixture of real feeling in the scorn and satire with which she spoke of love and marriage generally. 'I am free; free as the winds. Come, will you take me as I am? Have your wish; sacrifice the world, and prove yourself a true man.'
Mr Slope should have taken her at her word. She would have drawn back, and he would have had the full advantage of the offer. But he did not. Instead of doing so, he stood wrapt in astonishment, passing his fingers through his lank red hair, and thinking as he stared upon her animated countenance that her wondrous beauty grew more and more wonderful as he gazed on it. 'Ha! Ha! Ha!,' she laughed out loud. 'Come, Mr Slope, don't talk of sacrificing the world again. People beyond one-and-twenty should never dream of such a thing. You and I, if we have the dregs of any love left in us, if we have the remnants of a passion remaining in our hearts, should husband our resources better. We are not in our premiere jeunesse. The world is a very nice place. Your world, at any rate, is so. You have all manner of fat rectories to get, and possible bishoprics to enjoy. Come, confess; on second thoughts you would not sacrifice such things for the smiles of a lame lady?'
It was impossible for him to answer this. In order to be in any way dignified, he felt that he must be silent.
'Come,' said she--'don't boody with me: don't be angry because Ispeak out some home truths. Alas, the world, as I have found it, has taught me bitter truths. Come, tell me that I am forgiven. Are we not to be friends?' and she again put her hand to him.
He sat himself down on the chair beside her, and took her proffered hand and leant over her.
'There,' said she, with her sweetest, softest smile--a smile to withstand which a man should be cased in triple steel, 'there; seal your forgiveness on it,' and she raised it towards his face. He kissed it again and again, and stretched over her as though desirous of extending the charity of his pardon beyond the hand that was offered to him. She managed, however, to check his ardour.
For one so easily allured as this poor chaplain, her hand was surely enough.
'Oh, Madeline!' said he, 'tell me that you love me--do you--do you love me?'
'Hush,' said she. 'There is mother's step. Our tete-a-tete has been of monstrous length. Now you had better go. But we shall see you soon again, shall we not?'
Mr Slope promised that he would call again on the following day.
'And Mr Slope,' she continued, 'pray answer my note. You have it in your hand, though, I declare during these two hours you have not been gracious enough to read it. It is about the Sabbath school and the children. You know how anxious I am to have them here. I have been learning the catechi** myself, on purpose. You must manage it for me next week. I will teach them, at any rate, to submit themselves to their spiritual pastors and masters.'
Mr Slope said but little on the subject of Sabbath schools, but he made his adieu, and betook himself home with a sad heart, troubled mind, and uneasy conscience.
