The thought of Charley's unwavering affection gave her a great
sense of peace; it was something to have inspired such devotion,
she could never be quite desperate while she had him. She must
try to make him understand how possible an ideal friendship was
between them, how utterly impossible anything else. She would
like to have seen Charley happily married to some nice girl--
"I wonder whom!" thought Betty, gazing deep into the night
through her drooping lashes. She considered possible candidates
for the happiness she herself seemed so willing to forego, but
for one reason or another dismissed them all. "I am not sure I
should care to see him marry," she confessed under her breath.
"It would spoil everything. Men are much nicer than girls!" And
Charley possessed distinguished merits as a man; he was not to be
too hastily disposed of, even for his own good. She viewed him
in his various aspects, his character and disposition came under
her critical survey. Nature had given the young planter a
handsome presence; wealth and position had come to him as
fortuitously. The first of these was no great matter, perhaps;
Betty herself was sometimes burdened with a sense of possession,
but family was indispensable.
In theory, at least, she was a thoroughgoing little aristocrat.
A gentleman was always a gentleman. There were exceptions, like
Tom, to be sure, but even Tom could have reached up and seized
the title had he coveted it. She rarely forgot that she was the
mistress of Belle Plain and a Malroy.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262