- parently shipwrecked, her course of action made most
difficult, she is able to say to her sister:[1]
"Fanny, you have no idea what an absolute fool I am, what
an unutterable ass. The soft words of which I tell you were of
the kind which he speaks to you when he asks you how the cow
gets on which he sent you from Ireland, or to Mark about
Ponto's shoulder. * * *
"He is no hero. There is nothing on earth wonderful about him. I never heard him say a single word of wisdom, or utter a thought that was akin to poetry. He devotes all his energies to riding after a fox or killing poor birds, and I never heard of his doing a single great action in my life. And yet * * *"
In tears and breathless excitement she admits the
strength and reality of her love, and continues with the
diagnosis:
"I'll tell you what he has: he has fine straight legs, and a
smooth forehead, and a good-humoured eye, and white teeth.
Was it possible to see such a catalogue of perfections, and not
fall down, stricken to the very bone? But it was not that that
did it all, Fanny. I could have stood against that, I think I
could, at least. It was his title that killed me. I had never
spoken to a lord before."
But she is also obliged to acknowledge that she has done
some injustice to her own romance and to the sincerity of
Lord Lufton:[2]
"Well, it was not a dream. Here, standing here, on this very
spot—on that flower of the carpet—he begged me a dozen
times to be his wife. I wonder whether you and Mark would
let me cut it out and keep it."
No solution to her matrimonial problem being offered,
she suggests one:[3]
