The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

I understand it rightly,” he continued, “it is for a vile thing such as he, that you have left a man who is as much above him in character, as the sun is above the earth. You think little of John Crumb because he does not wear a fine coat.”

“I don’t care about any man’s coat,” said Ruby; “but John hasn’t ever a word to say, was it ever so.”

“Words to say! what do words matter? He loves you. He loves you after that fashion that he wants to make you happy and respectable, not to make you a byword and a disgrace.” Ruby struggled hard to make some opposition to the suggestion, but found herself to be incapable of speech at the moment. “He thinks more of you than of himself, and would give you all that he has. What would that other man give you? If you were once married to John Crumb, would anyone then pull you by the hairs of your head? Would there be any want then, or any disgrace?”

“There ain’t no disgrace, Mr. Carbury.”

“No disgrace in going about at midnight with such a one as Felix Carbury? You are not a fool, and you know that it is disgraceful. If you are not unfit to be an honest man’s wife, go back and beg that man’s pardon.”

“John Crumb’s pardon! No!”

“Oh, Ruby, if you knew how highly I respect that man, and how lowly I think of the other; how I look on the one as a noble fellow, and regard the other as dust beneath my feet, you would perhaps change your mind a little.”

Her mind was being changed. His words did have their effect, though the poor girl struggled against the conviction that was borne in upon her. She had never expected to hear anyone call John Crumb noble. But she had never respected anyone more highly than Squire Carbury, and he said that John Crumb was noble. Amidst all her misery and trouble she still told herself that it was but a dusty, mealy⁠—and also a dumb nobility.

“I’ll tell you what will take place,” continued Roger. “Mr. Crumb won’t put up with this you know.”

“He can’t do nothing to me, sir.”

“That’s true enough. Unless it be to take you in his arms and press you to his heart, he wants to do nothing to you. Do you think he’d injure you if he could? You don’t know what a man’s love really means, Ruby. But he could do something to somebody else. How do you think it would be with Felix Carbury, if they two were in a room together and nobody else by?”

“John’s mortial strong, Mr. Carbury.”

“If two men have equal pluck, strength isn’t much needed. One is a brave man, and the other⁠—a coward. Which do you think is which?”

“He’s your own cousin, and I don’t know why you should say everything again him.”

“You know I’m telling you the truth. You know it as well as I do myself;⁠—and you’re throwing yourself away, and throwing the man who loves you over⁠—for such a fellow as that! Go back to him, Ruby, and beg his pardon.”

“I never will;⁠—never.”

“I’ve spoken to Mrs. Pipkin, and while you’re here she will see that you don’t keep such hours any longer. You tell me that you’re not disgraced, and yet you are out at midnight with a young blackguard like that! I’ve said what I’ve got to say, and I’m going away. But I’ll let your grandfather know.”

“Grandfather don’t want me no more.”

“And I’ll come again. If you want money to go home, I will let you have it. Take my advice at least in this;⁠—do not see Sir Felix Carbury any more.” Then he took his leave. If he had failed to impress her with admiration for John Crumb, he had certainly been efficacious in lessening that which she had entertained for Sir Felix.

XLIV The Coming Election

The very greatness of Mr. Melmotte’s popularity, the extent of the admiration which was accorded by the public at large to his commercial enterprise and financial sagacity, created a peculiar bitterness in the opposition that was organised against him at Westminster. As the high mountains are intersected by deep valleys, as puritanism in one age begets infidelity in the next, as in many countries the thickness of the winter’s ice will be in proportion to the number of the summer mosquitoes, so was the keenness of the hostility displayed on this occasion in proportion to the warmth of the support which was manifested. As the great man was praised, so also was he abused. As he was a demigod to some, so was he a fiend to others. And indeed there was hardly any other way in which it was possible to carry on the contest against him. From the moment in which Mr. Melmotte had declared his purpose of standing for Westminster in the Conservative interest, an attempt was made to drive him down the throats of the electors by clamorous assertions of his unprecedented commercial greatness. It seemed that there was but one virtue in the world, commercial enterprise⁠—and that Melmotte was its prophet. It seemed, too, that the orators and writers of the day intended all Westminster to believe that Melmotte treated his great affairs in a spirit very different from that which animates the bosoms of merchants in general. He had risen above any feeling of personal profit. His wealth was so immense that there was no longer place for anxiety on that score. He already possessed⁠—so it was said⁠—enough to found a dozen families, and he had but one daughter! But by carrying on the enormous affairs which he held in his hands, he would be able to open up new worlds, to afford relief to the oppressed nationalities of the overpopulated old countries. He had seen how small was the good done by the Peabodys and the Bairds, and, resolving to lend no ear to charities and religions, was intent on projects