Chapter 61 - Page 2
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interest in Lizzie and her fortunes. What could it mean?
'You will come to this marriage with me, John dear?'
'N--no, my love; I can't do that.'
'You can't do that, John?'
'No, my dear, it's quite out of the question. Not to be thought of.'
'Am I to go alone, John?'
'No, my dear, you will go with Mr Lightwood.'
'Don't you think it's time we went down to Mr Lightwood, John
dear?' Bella insinuated.
'My darling, it's almost time you went, but I must ask you to
excuse me to him altogether.'
'You never mean, John dear, that you are not going to see him?
Why, he knows you have come home. I told him so.'
'That's a little unfortunate, but it can't be helped. Unfortunate or
fortunate, I positively cannot see him, my love.'
Bella cast about in her mind what could be his reason for this
unaccountable behaviour; as she sat on his knee looking at him in
astonishment and pouting a little. A weak reason presented itself.
'John dear, you never can be jealous of Mr Lightwood?'
'Why, my precious child,' returned her husband, laughing outright:
'how could I be jealous of him? Why should I be jealous of him?'
'Because, you know, John,' pursued Bella, pouting a little more,
'though he did rather admire me once, it was not my fault.'
'It was your fault that I admired you,' returned her husband, with a
look of pride in her, 'and why not your fault that he admired you?
But, I jealous on that account? Why, I must go distracted for life,
if I turned jealous of every one who used to find my wife beautiful
and winning!'
'I am half angry with you, John dear,' said Bella, laughing a little,
'and half pleased with you; because you are such a stupid old
fellow, and yet you say nice things, as if you meant them. Don't be
mysterious, sir. What harm do you know of Mr Lightwood?'
'None, my love.'
'What has he ever done to you, John?'
'He has never done anything to me, my dear. I know no more
against him than I know against Mr Wrayburn; he has never done
anything to me; neither has Mr Wrayburn. And yet I have exactly
the same objection to both of them.'
'Oh, John!' retorted Bella, as if she were giving him up for a bad
job, as she used to give up herself. 'You are nothing better than a
sphinx! And a married sphinx isn't a--isn't a nice confidential
husband,' said Bella, in a tone of injury.
'Bella, my life,' said John Rokesmith, touching her cheek, with a
grave smile, as she cast down her eyes and pouted again; 'look at
me. I want to speak to you.'
'In earnest, Blue Beard of the secret chamber?' asked Bella,
clearing her pretty
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