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John Bull on the Guadalquivir By: Anthony Trollope (1815-1882) |
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by Anthony Trollope
I am an Englishman, living, as all Englishman should do, in England,
and my wife would not, I think, be well pleased were any one to
insinuate that she were other than an Englishwoman; but in the
circumstances of my marriage I became connected with the south of
Spain, and the narrative which I am to tell requires that I should
refer to some of those details. The Pomfrets and Daguilars have long been in trade together in this
country, and one of the partners has usually resided at Seville for
the sake of the works which the firm there possesses. My father,
James Pomfret, lived there for ten years before his marriage; and
since that and up to the present period, old Mr. Daguilar has always
been on the spot. He was, I believe, born in Spain, but he came very
early to England; he married an English wife, and his sons had been
educated exclusively in England. His only daughter, Maria Daguilar,
did not pass so large a proportion of her early life in this country,
but she came to us for a visit at the age of seventeen, and when she
returned I made up my mind that I most assuredly would go after her.
So I did, and she is now sitting on the other side of the fireplace
with a legion of small linen habiliments in a huge basket by her
side. I felt, at the first, that there was something lacking to make my cup
of love perfectly delightful. It was very sweet, but there was
wanting that flower of romance which is generally added to the
heavenly draught by a slight admixture of opposition. I feared that
the path of my true love would run too smooth. When Maria came to
our house, my mother and elder sister seemed to be quite willing that
I should be continually alone with her; and she had not been there
ten days before my father, by chance, remarked that there was nothing
old Mr. Daguilar valued so highly as a thorough feeling of intimate
alliance between the two families which had been so long connected in
trade. I was never told that Maria was to be my wife, but I felt
that the same thing was done without words; and when, after six weeks
of somewhat elaborate attendance upon her, I asked her to be Mrs.
John Pomfret, I had no more fear of a refusal, or even of hesitation
on her part, than I now have when I suggest to my partner some
commercial transaction of undoubted advantage. But Maria, even at that age, had about her a quiet sustained decision
of character quite unlike anything I had seen in English girls. I
used to hear, and do still hear, how much more flippant is the
education of girls in France and Spain than in England; and I know
that this is shown to be the result of many causes the Roman
Catholic religion being, perhaps, chief offender; but, nevertheless,
I rarely see in one of our own young women the same power of a self
sustained demeanour as I meet on the Continent. It goes no deeper
than the demeanour, people say. I can only answer that I have not
found that shallowness in my own wife. Miss Daguilar replied to me that she was not prepared with an answer;
she had only known me six weeks, and wanted more time to think about
it; besides, there was one in her own country with whom she would
wish to consult. I knew she had no mother; and as for consulting old
Mr. Daguilar on such a subject, that idea, I knew, could not have
troubled her. Besides, as I afterwards learned, Mr. Daguilar had
already proposed the marriage to his partner exactly as he would have
proposed a division of assets. My mother declared that Maria was a
foolish chit in which by the bye she showed her entire ignorance of
Miss Daguilar's character; my eldest sister begged that no constraint
might he put on the young lady's inclinations which provoked me to
assert that the young lady's inclinations were by no means opposed to
my own; and my father, in the coolest manner suggested that the
matter might stand over for twelve months, and that I might then go
to Seville, and see about it! Stand over for twelve months! Would
not Maria, long before that time, have been snapped up and carried
off by one of those inordinately rich Spanish grandees who are still
to be met with occasionally in Andalucia? My father's dictum, however, had gone forth; and Maria, in the
calmest voice, protested that she thought it very wise... Continue reading book >>
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