The Evil Genius: A Domestic Story — page 201: what you’re looking at

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

- 90 THE EVIL GENIUS. Catherine refused. ‘‘T know how it will end,” she answered; ‘‘and the sooner it ends the better. You will find that I am quite as determined as you are. A man who loves me as he loves me, is a man whom I refuse to deceive.” ‘*Let’s have it out plainly,” Mrs. Presty insisted. ‘‘ He be- lieves your first marriage has been dissolved by death. Do you mean to tell him that it has been dissolved by divorce ?” dos? “* What right has he to know it?” ‘“‘A right that is not to be denied. A wife must have no se- erets from her husband.” Mrs. Presty hit back smartly. ‘*You’re not his wife yet. Wait till you are married.” ‘“Never! Who but a wretch would marry an honest man under false pretenses ?” ‘*{ deny the false pretenses! You talk as if you were an im- postor. Are you, orare you not, the accomplished lady who has charmed him? Are you, or are you not, the beautiful woman whom he loves? There isn’t a stain on your reputation. In every respect you are the wife he wants, and the wife who is worthy of him. And you are cruel enough to disturb the poor man about a matter that doesn’t concern him! you are fool enough to raise doubts of you in his mind, and give him a re- sett to cast in your teeth the first time you do anything that appens to offend him! Any woman—I don’t care who she may be—might envy the home that’s waiting for you and your child, if you’re wise enough to hold your tongue. Upon my word, | Catherine, 1am ashamed of you. Have you no principles?” She really meant it! The purely selfish considerations which she urged on her daughter were so many undeniable virtues in Mrs. Presty’s estimation. She took the highest moral ground, and stood up and crowed on it, with a pride in her own prin- ciples which the Primate of All England might have envied. But Catherine’s rare resolution held as firm as ever. She got a little nearer to the door. ‘‘ Good-night, mamma,” was the only reply she made. ‘‘Is that all you have to say to me?” ‘‘T am tired, and I must rest. Please let me go.” Mrs. Presty threw open the door with a bang. ‘‘ You refuse to take my advice,” she said. ‘‘ Oh, very well, have your own way! You are sure to prosper in the end. These are the days of exhibitions and gold medals. If there is ever an exhibition of idiots at large I know who will win the rize.”’ i Catherine was accustomed to preserve her respect for her mother under difficulties; but this was more than her sense of filial duty could successfully endure. ‘ft only wish I had never taken your advice,” she answered. ‘Many a miserable moment would have been spared me if I had always done what Iam doing now. You have been the an genius of my life since Miss Westerfield first came into our ouse.”’ EORMICLOOOKS EO m