'No heart!' said he. 'That is a very heavy charge which you bring against yourself, and one of which I cannot find you guilty--'
She withdrew her hand, not quickly and angrily, as though insulted by his touch, but gently and slowly.
'You are in no condition to give a verdict on the matter,' said she, 'as you have not tried me. No; don't say that you intend doing so, for you know you have no intention of the kind; nor indeed have I either. As for you, you will take your vows where they will result in something more substantial than the pursuit of such a ghostlike, ghastly love as mine--'
'Your love should be sufficient to satisfy the dream of a monarch,'
said Mr Slope, not quite clear as to the meaning of his words.
'Say an archbishop, Mr Slope,' said she. Poor fellow! She was very cruel to him. He went round again upon his cork on this allusion to his profession. He tried, however, to smile, and gently accused her of joking on a matter, which was, he said, to him of such vital moment.
'Why--what gulls do you men make of us,' she replied. 'How you fool us to the top of our bent; and of all men you clergymen are the most fluent of your honeyed caressing words. Now look me in the face, Mr Slope, boldly and openly.'
Mr Slope did look at her with a languishing loving eye, and as he did so, he again put forth his hand to get hold of hers.
'I told you to look at me boldly, Mr Slope; but confine your boldness to your eyes.'
'Oh, Madeline,' he sighed.
'Well, my name is Madeline,' said she; 'but none except my own family usually call me so. Now look me in the face, Mr Slope. Am Ito understand that you say you love me?'
Mr Slope never had said so. If he had come there with any formed plan at all, his intention was to make love to the lady without uttering any such declaration. It was, however, quite impossible that he should now deny his love. He had, therefore, nothing for it, but to go down on his knees distractedly against the sofa, and swear that he did love her with a love passing the love of man.'
The signora received the assurance with very little palpitations or appearance of surprise. 'And now answer me another question,' said she; 'when are you to be married to Eleanor Bold?'
Poor Mr Slope went round and round in mortal agony. In such a condition as his it was really very hard for him to know what answer to give. And yet no answer would be his surest condemnation.
He might as well at once plead guilty to the charge brought against him.
'And why do you accuse me of such dissimulation?'
'Dissimulation! I said nothing of dissimulation. I made no charge against you, and make none. Pray don't defend yourself to me. You swear that you are devoted to my beauty, and yet you are on the eve of matrimony with another. I feel this to be rather a compliment.
It is to Mrs Bold that you must defend yourself. That you may find difficult; unless, indeed, you can keep her in the dark. You clergymen are cleverer than other men.'
'Signora, I have told you that I loved you, and now you rail at me?'
'Rail at you. God bless the man; what would he have? Come, answer me this at your leisure,--not without thinking now, but leisurely and with consideration,--are you not going to be married to Mrs Bold?'
'I am not,' said he. And as he said it, he almost hated, with an exquisite hatred, the woman whom he could not help loving with an exquisite love.
'But surely you are a worshipper of hers?'
'I am not,' said Mr Slope, to whom the word worshipper was peculiarly distasteful. The signora had conceived that it would be so.
'I wonder at that,' said she. 'Do you not admire her? To my eyes she is the perfection of English beauty. And then she is rich too.
I should have thought she was just the person to attract you. Come, Mr Slope, let me give you advice on this matter. Marry the charming widow! She will be a good mother to your children and an excellent mistress of a clergyman's household.'
'Oh, signora, how can you be so cruel?'
'Cruel,' said she, changing the voice of her banter which she had been using for one which was expressively earnest in its tone; 'is that cruelty?'
'How can I love another, while my heart is entirely your own?'
'If that were cruelty, Mr Slope, what might you say of me if I were to declare that I returned your passion? What would you think if Ibound you even by a lover's oath to do daily penance at this couch of mine? What can I give in return for a man's love? Ah, dear friend, you have not realised the condition of my fate.'
Mr Slope was not on his knees all this time. After his declaration of love he had risen from them as quickly as he thought consistent with the new position which he now filled, and as he stood was leaning on the back of his chair. This outburst of tenderness on the Signora's part quite overcame him, and made him feel for the moment that he could sacrifice everything to be assured of the love of the beautiful creature before him, maimed, lame, and already married as she was.
'And can I not sympathise with your lot?' said he, now seating himself on her sofa, and pushing away the table with his foot.
'Sympathy is so near to pity!' said she. 'If you pity me, cripple as I am, I shall spurn you from me.'
'Oh, Madeline, I will only love you,' and again he caught her hand and devoured it with kisses. Now she did not draw from him, but sat there as he kissed it, looking at him with her great eyes, just as a great spider would look at a great fly that was quite securely caught.
'Suppose Signor Neroni were to come to Barchester,' said she, 'would you make his acquaintance?'
'Signor Neroni!' said he.
'Would you introduce him to the bishop, and Mrs Proudie, and the young ladies?' said she, again having recourse to that horrid quizzing voice which Mr Slope so particularly hated.
'Why do you ask me such a question?' said he.
'Because it is necessary that you should know that there is a Signor Neroni. I think you had forgotten it.'
