She was to be
his wife--yes, some day--and it was his desire the some day should be
soon: but in the interval her dearest privilege was the power to keep
him at a distance.
And yet she could not make up her mind to break with him, to say
honestly, 'I never liked you much, and now we are engaged I find myself
liking you less and less every day. Save me from the irrevocable
wickedness of a loveless marriage. Forgive me, and let me go.' No, this
she could not bring herself to say. She did not like Mr. Smithson, but
she valued the position he was able to give her. She wanted to be
mistress of that infinite wealth--she could not renounce that right to
which she fancied she had been born, her right to be one of the Queens
of Society: and the only man who had offered to crown her as queen, to
find her a palace and a court, was Horace Smithson. Without Mr. Smithson
her first season would have resulted in dire failure. She might perhaps
have endured that failure, and been content to abide the chances of a
second season, had it not been for Mary's triumph.
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