She knew what were the aspirations, what the
ambition, of an honest woman; and she knew, too, how rich were the
probable rewards of such honesty. True love, true friendship, true
benevolence, true tenderness, were beautiful to her, qualities on which
she could descant almost with eloquence; and therefore she was always
shamming love and friendship and benevolence and tenderness. She could
tell you, with words most appropriate to the subject, how horrible were
all shams, and in saying so would be not altogether insincere. Yet she
knew that she herself was ever shamming, and she satisfied herself with
shams. "What is he going to say to me?" she asked Augusta, with her hands
clasped, when she went up to put her bonnet on after breakfast.
"To fix the day, I suppose," said Augusta.
"If I thought so, I would endeavour to please him. But it isn't that. I
know his manner so well! I am sure it is not that. Perhaps it is something
about my boy. He will not wish to separate a mother from her child."
"Oh dear, no," said Augusta. "I am sure Frederic will not want to do
that."
"In anything else I will obey him," said Lizzie, again clasping her hands.
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