The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 377: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE YOUNG DUCHESS; ‘You have found me out, sir,” said Ashborne; ‘* vou have besought me to come hither—and I have not thought fit to disregard the summons. Yet it were well that our interview should be short, and that whatsoever you may have to say should be spoken in the fewest words possible.” “*’Yes—my demand shall be briefly made,” re- plied Mr. Ponsford; ‘and let your answer be as quickly given. You have outraged my daughter Perhaps there may ensue consequences which would cover her with shame if she had not a father’s name to give to the possible fruit of your crime! In a word, therefore, Mr. Ashborne, you will not refuse to marry her ?” ‘And you, the father of that young lady,” said Stephen, with a cold voice, manner, and look, ‘** can make this request of one who has inflicted such a terrible injury upon your daughter!” ‘*T do, Mr. Ashborne,” was the response. “But your daughter herself,” continued Ste~ phen—“ is it possible that she would accept as u husband the man who inflicted upon her so stupendous an outrage ?” ‘She will accept you as a husband, Mr. Ash- borne,” rejoined Ponsford. ‘‘ Have you told her everything, sir?” de- manded Stephen: ‘“‘ have you explained to her how it was not the mere kindling of a desire on my part, nor a paroxysm of uncontrollable lust—but that it was a hideous revenge which I wreaked —despoiling your daughter of her honour because you, Jobn Ponsford, violated the chastity of my mother !” The unhappy father trembled visibly from head to foot—his pale countenance grew paler still—his lips quivered—and it was with nervous accents that he said, ‘‘ No, no—I have not told my daughter all this! How could I look my own child in the face and talk to her on such mon- strous topics? The veriest ruffian on God’s earth would revolt against such gross indelicacy !” “Then what have you said, sir?” demanded Ashborne, folding his arms across his chest and speaking in a stern peremptory tone. ‘‘ Have you thrown the whole weight of the iniquity upon me,—presenting my crime to your daughter’s view as one utterly unprovoked, and therefore so savage, so barbarous, so hellish indeed in its nature, that none but a demon incarnate could have perpetrated it ?” ‘“No, Mr. Ashborne,” replied Ponsford; ‘I have not sought to leave this impression upon my daughter’s mind. Was I not compelled to offer some excuse for not invoking the law to smite you with all its awfullest vengeance? Well, then, it was not merely sufficient to tell Pamela that the hideous incident must be hushed up for her own sake—because in the frantic ravings which succeeded her return to consciousness, she de- manded every species of retributive justice that human laws could possibly afford!—she recked not for her own fame or honour then! And therefore you see, Mr. Ashborne, I was compelled to say something—to—to a “To invent an excuse,” interjected Stephen sternly, “for not handing me over to the grasp of the law.” “'Yes—it was so,” said Ponsford, in a trembling tone. ‘‘ I told my daughter that your parents had snstained great wrongs at my hands in times past—I confessed that I had been very guilty OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. I 863 towards them Oh! I did not spare these self- accusings! No, no! I did not!—for I told Pamela that in the same hour which should be- hold you, Stephen Ashborne, given over to the grasp of justice, my own repute would be blasted by the terrific exposures which would issue from your lips! And Pamela asked me for no more: she sought no farther explanations:—she shud- dered—she shrank within herself—for then, for the first time, she found herself compelled to look upon her own father as far from being the upright faultless man she had always thought him, but one who had heavy sins upon his con- science !” ‘And thus,” said Ashborne, “your daughter thinks that if it be possible for extenuation to exist for the wreaking of so horrible a ven- geance, it is to be found on my behalf? Is this her impression, Mr. Ponsford ?” “For a young creature who has sustained so deep a wrong—so foul an injury,” answered the Squire, ‘it is difficult indeed to soften in any sense the keen bitterness of her appreciation of that wrong. But still, Mr. Ashborne, it must be evident to you that I have succeeded in reasoning somewhat with Pamela when I repeat that she is ready to receive you as a husband.” ‘And what if I were to refuse?” asked Stephen, speaking suddenly after a pause of nearly a minute. ‘“No, no—you cannot!” exclaimed Ponsford : “‘you cannot—and you will not! You are not naturally deficient in good feelin . **No!—heaven knows that I am not!” inter- jected Ashborne bitterly. ‘‘ There used to be an angel in the sanctuary of my heart; and it must have been a terrific sense of my mother’s wrongs which could have expelled that divine tenant to make room for the entry of a demon !” ‘Well, then,” cried Ponsford eagerly, ‘‘ you will not refuse my request—my supplication—my prayer? I know that the injuries inflicted upon your mother were great and manifold: but surely they are now avenged !—surely you have wreaked ~ upon me an adequate punishment! Ah, and there are some—nay, doubtless there are many in the world, who would say that the chastisement is too great, even as it falls upon me only; while in re- spect to my poor daughter, who of herself never injured you, you can scarcely feel that you had a right to wound me so deeply through her! But suppose, Stephen Ashborne, you had come to me and said that you meant to kill me—that you had prepared the means of inflicting horrible agonies upon me—and that I might vainly cry out for succour, — and then if you had begun to carry your threats into execution, you would have been justified! — yes, justified, I repeat, even though the mode by which you put me to death should have outrivalled the tortures of impalement or of flaying ! Yes — you would have been justified ; because in striking that blow you would have smitten me only! But you did not do this!—you wounded me through another—and that other a being clothed with purity and innocence!—one who had never in- jured you! You inflicted two distinct vengeances, Stephen Ashborne! You were not just—you have exacted more than your due! You had no right to strike too! Against one only—and that one myself—should your arm have been raised!” COMO YN Wn) Colin