.
Doria allowed Richard to speak to her. She laughed at his futile
endeavours to undo her work, and the boyish sentiments he uttered on the
subject. "Let us see, child," she said, "let us see which turns out the
best; a marriage of passion, or a marriage of common sense."

Heroic efforts were not wanting to arrest the union. Richard made
repeated journeys to Hounslow, where Ralph was quartered, and if Ralph
could have been persuaded to carry off a young lady who did not love
him, from the bridegroom her mother averred she did love, Mrs. Doria
might have been defeated. But Ralph in his cavalry quarters was cooler
than Ralph in the Bursley meadows. "Women are oddities, Dick," he
remarked, running a finger right and left along his upper lip. "Best
leave them to their own freaks. She's a dear girl, though she doesn't
talk: I like her for that. If she cared for me I'd go the race. She
never did. It's no use asking a girl twice. She knows whether she cares
a fig for a fellow."

The hero quitted him with some contempt, As Ralph Morton was a young
man, and he had determined that John Todhunter was an old man, he sought
another private interview with Clare, and getting her alone, said:
"Clare, I've come to you for the last time. Will you marry Ralph
Morton?"

To which Clare replied, "I cannot marry two husbands, Richard."

"Will you refuse to marry this old man?"

"I must do as mama wishes."

"Then you're going to marry an old man--a man you don't love, and can't
love! Oh, good God! do you know what you're doing?" He flung about in
a fury. "Do you know what it is? Clare!" he caught her two hands
violently, "have you any idea of the horror you're going to commit?"

She shrank a little at his vehemence, but neither blushed nor stammered:
answering: "I see nothing wrong in doing what mama thinks right,
Richard."

"Your mother! I tell you it's an infamy, Clare! It's a miserable sin! I
tell you, if I had done such a thing I would not live an hour after it.
And coldly to prepare for it! to be busy about your dresses! They told
me when I came in that you were with the milliner. To be smiling over
the horrible outrage! decorating yourself!"...

"Dear Richard," said Clare, "you will make me very unhappy."

"That one of my blood should be so debased!" he cried, brushing angrily
at his face. "Unhappy! I beg you to feel for yourself, Clare. But I
suppose," and he said it scornfully, "girls don't feel this sort of
shame."

She