- end_line
- 8692
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.921Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 8594
- text
- II.
Mrs. Glendinning walked her chamber; her dress loosened.
"That such accursed vileness should proceed from me! Now will the
tongued world say--See the vile boy of Mary Glendinning!--Deceitful!
thick with guilt, where I thought it was all guilelessness and gentlest
docility to me. It has not happened! It is not day! Were this thing so,
I should go mad, and be shut up, and not walk here where every door is
open to me.--My own only son married to an unknown--thing! My own only
son, false to his holiest plighted public vow--and the wide world
knowing to it! He bears my name--Glendinning. I will disown it; were it
like this dress, I would tear my name off from me, and burn it till it
shriveled to a crisp!--Pierre! Pierre! come back, come back, and swear
it is not so! It can not be! Wait: I will ring the bell, and see if it
be so."
She rung the bell with violence, and soon heard a responsive knock.
"Come in!--Nay, falter not;" (throwing a shawl over her) "come in. Stand
there and tell me if thou darest, that my son was in this house this
morning and met me on the stairs. Darest thou say that?"
Dates looked confounded at her most unwonted aspect.
"Say it! find thy tongue! Or I will root mine out and fling it at thee!
Say it!"
"My dear mistress!"
"I am not thy mistress! but thou my master; for, if thou sayest it, thou
commandest me to madness.--Oh, vile boy!--Begone from me!"
She locked the door upon him, and swiftly and distractedly walked her
chamber. She paused, and tossing down the curtains, shut out the sun
from the two windows.
Another, but an unsummoned knock, was at the door. She opened it.
"My mistress, his Reverence is below. I would not call you, but he
insisted."
"Let him come up."
"Here? Immediately?"
"Didst thou hear me? Let Mr. Falsgrave come up."
As if suddenly and admonishingly made aware, by Dates, of the
ungovernable mood of Mrs. Glendinning, the clergyman entered the open
door of her chamber with a most deprecating but honest reluctance, and
apprehensiveness of he knew not what.
"Be seated, sir; stay, shut the door and lock it."
"Madam!"
"_I_ will do it. Be seated. Hast thou seen him?"
"Whom, Madam?--Master Pierre?"
"Him!--quick!"
"It was to speak of him I came, Madam. He made a most extraordinary call
upon me last night--midnight."
"And thou marriedst him?--Damn thee!"
"Nay, nay, nay, Madam; there is something here I know not of--I came to
tell thee news, but thou hast some o'erwhelming tidings to reveal to
me."
"I beg no pardons; but I may be sorry. Mr. Falsgrave, my son, standing
publicly plighted to Lucy Tartan, has privately wedded some other
girl--some slut!"
"Impossible!"
"True as thou art there. Thou knowest nothing of it then?"
"Nothing, nothing--not one grain till now. Who is it he has wedded?"
"Some _slut_, I tell thee!--I am no lady now, but something deeper,--a
woman!--an outraged and pride-poisoned woman!"
She turned from him swiftly, and again paced the room, as frantic and
entirely regardless of any presence. Waiting for her to pause, but in
vain, Mr. Falsgrave advanced toward her cautiously, and with the
profoundest deference, which was almost a cringing, spoke:--
"It is the hour of woe to thee; and I confess my cloth hath no
consolation for thee yet awhile. Permit me to withdraw from thee,
leaving my best prayers for thee, that thou mayst know some peace, ere
this now shut-out sun goes down. Send for me whenever thou desirest
me.--May I go now?"
"Begone! and let me not hear thy soft, mincing voice, which is an infamy
to a man! Begone, thou helpless, and unhelping one!"
- title
- Chunk 1