The Case of General Ople and Lady Camper | Page 9

now gone so far that I cannot pretend to be blind. I know your
feelings as a father. Your daughter's happiness . . .'
'My lady,' the General interposed, 'I have her distinct assurance that it is,
I say it is wrapt up in mine.'
'Let me speak. Young people will say anything. Well, they have a

certain excuse for selfishness; we have not. I am in some degree bound
to my nephew; he is my sister's son.'
'Assuredly, my lady. I would not stand in his light, be quite assured. If I
am, I was saying if I am not mistaken, I . . . and he is, or has the
making of an excellent soldier in him, and is likely to be a
distinguished cavalry officer.'
'He has to carve his own way in the world, General.'
'All good soldiers have, my lady. And if my position is not, after a
considerable term of service, I say if . . .'
'To continue,' said Lady Camper: 'I never have liked early marriages. I
was married in my teens before I knew men. Now I do know them, and
now . . .'
The General plunged forward: 'The honour you do us now:--a mature
experience is worth:--my dear Lady Camper, I have admired you:--and
your objection to early marriages cannot apply to . . . indeed, madam,
vigour, they say . . . though youth, of course . . . yet young people, as
you observe . . . and I have, though perhaps my reputation is against it,
I was saying I have a natural timidity with your sex, and I am
grey-headed, white-headed, but happily without a single malady.'
Lady Camper's brows showed a trifling bewilderment. 'I am speaking
of these young people, General Ople.'
'I consent to everything beforehand, my dear lady. He should be, I say
Mr. Rolles should be provided for.'
'So should she, General, so should Elizabeth.'
'She shall be, she will, dear madam. What I have, with your permission,
if--good heaven! Lady Camper, I scarcely know where I am. She
would . . . . I shall not like to lose her: you would not wish it. In time
she will . . . she has every quality of a good wife.'

'There, stay there, and be intelligible,' said Lady Camper. 'She has
every quality. Money should be one of them. Has she money?'
'Oh! my lady,' the General exclaimed, 'we shall not come upon your
purse when her time comes.'
'Has she ten thousand pounds?'
'Elizabeth? She will have, at her father's death . . . but as for my income,
it is moderate, and only sufficient to maintain a gentlemanly
appearance in proper self-respect. I make no show. I say I make no
show. A wealthy marriage is the last thing on earth I should have aimed
at. I prefer quiet and retirement. Personally, I mean. That is my
personal taste. But if the lady . . . . I say if it should happen that the
lady . . . . and indeed I am not one to press a suit: but if she who
distinguishes and honours me should chance to be wealthy, all I can do
is to leave her wealth at her disposal, and that I do: I do that
unreservedly. I feel I am very confused, alarmingly confused. Your
ladyship merits a superior . . . I trust I have not . . . I am entirely at your
ladyship's mercy.'
'Are you prepared, if your daughter is asked in marriage, to settle ten
thousand pounds on her, General Ople?'
The General collected himself. In his heart he thoroughly appreciated
the moral beauty of Lady Camper's extreme solicitude on behalf of his
daughter's provision; but he would have desired a postponement of that
and other material questions belonging to a distant future until his own
fate was decided.
So he said: 'Your ladyship's generosity is very marked. I say it is very
marked.'
'How, my good General Ople! how is it marked in any degree?' cried
Lady Camper. 'I am not generous. I don't pretend to be; and certainly I
don't want the young people to think me so. I want to be just. I have
assumed that you intend to be the same. Then will you do me the
favour to reply to me?'

The General smiled winningly and intently, to show her that he prized
her, and would not let her escape his eulogies.
'Marked, in this way, dear madam, that you think of my daughter's
future more than I. I say, more than her father himself does. I know I
ought to speak more warmly, I feel warmly. I was never an eloquent
man, and if you take me as a soldier, I am, as,