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Updated: May 28, 2025
You've youth and good looks, and good manners, or if you haven't you ought to have, and I say you shall marry a title, by George! There's this Lady Gwendoline she ain't rich, but she's an earl's daughter. Now what's to hinder your going for her?" Charley looked up meekly from the depths of his chair. "As you like it, governor. In all matters matrimonial I simply consider myself as non-existent.
"I don't see that you need waste your precious pity on either," answered Edith, perfectly unmoved by Miss Stuart's vituperation; "keep it for me. I shall make Sir Victor a very good wife as wives go, and for Charley well, Lady Gwendoline is left to console him." "Yes, of course, there is Lady Gwendoline. O Edith! Edith! what are you made of?
They sat there long, hand in hand, and eye on eye, talking it all over, as lovers will, with infinite delays, yet getting no nearer towards a solution either way. Gwendoline, for her part, didn't care, of course what true woman does? whether Granville was the heir of Tilgate or not; she would marry him all the more, she said, if he were a penniless nobody.
He is thinking, as he says it, how pallid and faded poor Lady Gwendoline is looking, in her dingy green satin and white Brussels lace overdress, her emeralds and bright golden hair most beautiful and most expensive shade to be had in London.
Miss Darrell is not a Lady Gwendoline, certainly she has neither rank nor wealth, but in my sight their absence is no objection whatever. And I love her; everything is said in that." "You love her," she repeated mournfully. "O my poor boy, my poor boy!" "I don't think I deserve pity," Sir Victor said, smiling again. "I don't feel as though I did. And now tell me the real reason of all this."
Never asked for you, Gwendoline, or Colonel Hampton, or my health, or anything." Lady Gwendoline did not reply. They had just entered Oxford Street, and amid the moving throng of well-dressed people on the pavement, her eye had singled out one figure the figure of a tall, slender, fair-haired man. "Portia!" she exclaimed, in a suppressed voice, "look there! Is not that Sir Victor Catheron now?"
"Now don't talk like that, Gwendoline," he said coaxingly. "Don't crush me quite flat. Remember at least that you ONCE were kind to me. It isn't my fault, surely, if I still recollect it." Gwendoline withdrew her hand from his with yet more evident coolness. "Circumstances alter cases," she said severely. "That was before I really knew you."
It had all seemed like a dream: and now Edwin Einstein had come in person to ask her hand from the earl, her father. Indeed, he was at this moment in the outer hall testing the gold leaf in the picture-frames with his pen-knife while waiting for his affianced to break the fateful news to Lord Oxhead. Gwendoline summoned her courage for a great effort.
There have been others too, though for the moment I do not recall their names. But tell me, Gwendoline, this Edwin of yours where is his family seat?" "It is at Oshkosh, Wisconsin, father." "Ah! say you so?" rejoined the earl, with rising interest. "Oshkosh is, indeed, a grand old name. The Oshkosh are a Russian family.
Lady Portia's, dress was displayed a rose velvet, with point-lace trimmings and found fault with, of course. Lady Gwendoline and the Hon. Mary transacted their affairs at a little distance. For her elder ladyship the train did not suit her, the bodice did not please her; she gave her orders for altering sharply and concisely.
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