Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
“bachelor-girl,” I believe, is the phrase. I did indeed force my brother to make her come to Mount Street; but, if that preserves the convenances, it is the utmost that I have achieved. When the trouble breaks out, when we find her liée with some hopelessly unsuitable “temporary gentleman” . . . I? In a rash moment I allowed Brackenbury to make some trifling contribution to the cost of the girl’s bed and board: the result is that she treats me as a lodging-house-keeper. . .
It was not a cheerful retrospect; but I had done my best, I could only say “Let me be judged on my intentions.” The future. . . That was what troubled me more. When Will resigns his commission, something must be done to establish him in life until he succeeds his uncle. He is nearly thirty and has never earned a penny beyond his present army pay; I cannot support him indefinitely; and these frantic appeals for a hundred pounds here and five hundred pounds there. . . I cannot meet them, unless I am to sell the house in Mount Street and give up any little niche that I may occupy. Frankly, I am not prepared to do that. One’s frame and setting. . . If his uncles would make a proper settlement, there would be an end of all our troubles; failing that, I must find him a well-paid appointment. And,
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