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Updated: June 12, 2025
So much so that when she had gone on he recalled one of her remarks, and said: "I believe, if the whole place were swept away to-morrow, Laetitia Dale could reconstruct it and put those aspens on the north of the lake in number and situation correctly where you have them now. I would guarantee her description of it in absence correct." "Why should she be absent?" said Clara, palpitating.
Sir Willoughby does think of his cousin Vernon; he is anxious to establish him; he is the author of a proposal to that effect." "We know it!" the Patterne ladies exclaimed. "And Laetitia rejected poor Vernon once more!" "Who spoke of Miss Dale's rejection of Mr. Whitford?" "Is he not rejected?" Lady Culmer inquired. "It is in debate, and at this moment being decided." "Oh! do he seated, Mr.
Anything you will, only give me your hand; give it; trust to me; you shall direct me. If I have faults, help me to obliterate them." "Will you not expect me to regard them as the virtues of meaner men?" "You will be my wife!" Laetitia broke from him, crying: "Your wife, your critic! Oh, I cannot think it possible. Send for the ladies. Let them hear me."
Laetitia was a witness of their union of hands on her coming back to the room. They promised to visit her very early in the morning, neither of them conceiving that they left her to a night of storm and tears. She sat meditating on Clara's present appreciation of Sir Willoughby's generosity.
Evidently she had not. "Is it untrue that last night, between twelve o'clock and one, in the drawing-room, you proposed marriage to Miss Dale?" He became convinced that she must have stolen down-stairs during his colloquy with Laetitia, and listened at the door. "On behalf of old Vernon?" he said, lightly laughing. "The idea is not novel, as you know. They are suited, if they could see it.
The headlong match is how can we describe it? By its finale I am afraid. Vernon's abilities are really to be respected. His shyness is his malady. I suppose he reflected that he was not a capitalist. He might, one would think, have addressed himself to me; my purse is not locked." "No, Sir Willoughby!" Laetitia said, warmly, for his donations in charity were famous.
Our states, I have always contended, our various phases have to be passed through, and there is no disgrace in it so long as they do not levy toll on the quintessential, the spiritual element. You understand me? I am no adept in these abstract elucidations." "You explain yourself clearly," said Laetitia.
"He can imagine no other cause for my wish to be released. I have noticed, it is his instinct to reckon on women as constant by their nature. They are the needles, and he the magnet. Jealousy of you, Miss Dale! Laetitia, may I speak?" "Say everything you please." "I could wish: Do you know my baptismal name?" "Clara." "At last! I could wish . . . that is, if it were your wish.
Clara had spoken to her of the visit and mission of the ladies to the library: and Laetitia daringly conceived herself to be on the certain track of his meaning, she being able to enjoy their society as she supposed him to consider that Miss Middleton did not, and would not either abroad or at home. Sir Willoughby asked her: "You could travel with them?" "Indeed I could!" "Honestly?"
"My daughter is here, sir, and will be most happy to present her respects to the father of her friend, Miss Dale." "They are friends?" "Very cordial friends." Mr. Dale administered another feebly pacifying sniff to himself. "Laetitia!" he sighed, in apostrophe, and swept his forehead with a hand seen to shake.
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