"Well, the vicar says she did the divorcing. But he's very charitable;
it may be as Agatha hopes."
"I detest vagueness. Why doesn't someone ask the woman?"
"You shall come with me, Granny dear, and ask her yourself; you will do
it so nicely."
Lady Casterley looked up.
"We shall see," she said. Something struggled with the autocratic
criticism in her eyes. No more than the rest of the world could she help
indulging Barbara. As one who believed in the divinity of her order, she
liked this splendid child. She even admired--though admiration was not
what she excelled in--that warm joy in life, as of some great nymph,
parting the waves with bare limbs, tossing from her the foam of
breakers. She felt that in this granddaughter, rather than in the good
Agatha, the patrician spirit was housed. There were points to Agatha,
earnestness and high principle; but something morally narrow and
over-Anglican slightly offended the practical, this-worldly temper of
Lady Casterley. It was a weakness, and she disliked weakness. Barbara
would never be squeamish over moral questions or matters such as were
not really, essential to aristocracy. She might, indeed, err too much
the other way from sheer high spirits. As the impudent child had said:
"If people had no pasts, they would have no futures." And Lady Casterley
could not bear people without futures.
Pages:
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80