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Part 1: Understand the Value Proposition
marketing—this gives the instructor a chance to introduce the marketing mix and make that point that
marketing covers more than just communication.
p. 2 REAL PEOPLE, REAL CHOICES—HERE’S MY PROBLEM
AT COMCAST Comcast has been working hard to improve its
customer service and brand reputation. Because Comcast opts-in
customers to marketing messages at point of sale, promotional
messages are permitted through email. Comcast had to weigh the
decision to balance any messages seen as noncritical or promotional
with key service messages—too many messages might cause a
customer to tune-out all messages but sending none would not aid the
customer in understanding what services might be a better fit for their
household. Suzanne had three options:
1: Don’t email these customers about anything more than the products
they have.
2: Add promotional emails to the flow.
3: Use emails to highlight ways to upgrade service plans as a part of
the service email.
Website: Big Brothers Big Sisters is an example of a non-profit organization. What benefits are
offered to the volunteer? Can you cite examples of societal marketing on this site?
www.bbbs.org Go to Volunteer page.
Discussion question: Have you ever thought about the fact that not-for-profit companies need to use
marketing as well? If not, why?
Website: Subaru is one company that tries to meet the psychological needs of consumers to feel safe
(as well as their need for reliable transportation). Visit the Subaru website: www.Subaru.com
p. 9 A want is a desire for a particular product we use to satisfy a need in
specific ways that are influenced culturally and socially.
When you couple desire with the buying power or resources to satisfy
a want, the result is demand.
Discussion question: What are your favorite marketplaces in which to shop and why?
Discussion question: Do you mind when someone tries to “hard sell” you on a product? How do you
usually react to “hard sell” salesperson?
videos consumers post on YouTube that detail the latest stuff they
bought. Consumer-generated content include:
• Loews Hotels opted to use photos of actual guests in their
marketing instead of hiring actors. They began the process by
looking through Instagram photos that their guests had already Figure 1.3
shared. This inspiration turned into the #TravelForReal campaign Process:
where they invited real travelers to capture the essence of each Create and
hotel. They collected these photos and used them on their Deliver Value
website, social media outlets
strategy, and identifies who will be responsible for carrying out each part
of the marketing strategy.
Though marketing can be described in many ways, the best definition is that marketing is
the process of planning and executing the conception, pricing, promotion, and
distribution of ideas, goods, and services to create exchanges that satisfy individual and
organizational objectives.
1-3. Define the terms consumer goods, services, and industrial goods. What do we mean by
marketing ideas, people, and places?
Consumer goods are the tangible products that individual consumers purchase for
personal or family use. Examples: laundry detergent, food, home computer.
Services are intangible products that we pay for and use but never own. Examples: dry
cleaning, tax preparation, dermatologist.
Industrial goods are bought by organizations for further processing or for use in their
business operations. Examples: wood for paper, rubber for tires, steel for cars.
Marketing principles are also used to market ideas, places, and people. Examples include:
• Fatherhood involvement
• Shelter-pet adoption
• Microcelebrities
Some of the same principles that go into “creating” a celebrity apply to you. An
entertainer must “package” his/her talents, identify a market that is likely to be interested,
and work hard to gain exposure to these potential customers by appearing in the right
venues. You can use marketing strategies to create your unique brand—Brand You
Brandfests are events hosted by companies to thank customers for their loyalty.
generated content has become more important than branded content.
1-5. What is utility? How does marketing create different forms of utility?
1-6. Trace the evolution of the marketing concept. What is the triple bottom line orientation?
The marketing concept has gone through a few stages throughout the years. These stages
include:
• The Production Era: a production orientation works best in a seller’s market when
demand is greater than supply because it focuses on the most efficient ways to
produce and distribute products.
• The Sales Era: a selling orientation means that management views marketing as a
sales function, or a way to move products out of warehouses so that inventories do
not pile up.
• The Relationship Era: a consumer orientation that satisfies customers’ needs and
wants.
• The Triple Bottom Line: a triple bottom-line orientation means building long-term
bonds with customers rather than merely selling them stuff today. This new way of
looking at business emphasizes the need to maximize three components:
▪ The financial bottom line ---Financial profits to stakeholders,
▪ The social bottom line--- Contributing to the communities in which the
company operates
▪ The environmental bottom line---Creating sustainable business practices that
minimize damage to the environment or that even improve it
1-7. Explain how marketers practice the societal marketing concept and sustainability.
An important trend now is for companies to think of ways to design and manufacture
products with a focus on sustainability, defined as “meeting present needs without
compromising the ability of future generations to meet their needs.” Sustainability applies
to many aspects of doing business, including social and economic practices (e.g., humane
CHAPTER XXXVII
There is an impatient spirit in the young, that will not suffer them to
take into consideration the pauses that occur between events. That
which they do not see move, they believe to be stationary. Falkner
was surprised by the silence of several days on the part of Neville;
but he did not the less expect and prepare for the time, when he
should be called upon to render an account for the wrong he had
done. Elizabeth, on the contrary, deemed that the scene was closed,
the curtain fallen. What more could arise? Neville had obtained
assurance of the innocence and miserable end of his mother. In
some manner this would be declared to the world; but the echo of
such a voice would not penetrate the solitude in which she and her
guardian were hereafter to live. Silence and exclusion were the
signal and seal of discovered guilt—other punishment she did not
expect. The name of Falkner had become abhorrent to all who bore
any relationship to the injured Alithea. She had bid an eternal adieu
to the domestic circle at Oakly—to the kind and frank-hearted Lady
Cecil—and, with her, to Gerard. His mind, fraught with a thousand
virtues—his heart, whose sensibility had awoke her tenderness, were
shut irrevocably against her.
Did she love Gerard? This question never entered her own mind. She
felt, but did not reason on, her emotions. Elizabeth was formed to
be alive to the better part of love. Her enthusiasm gave ideality, her
affectionate disposition warmth, to all her feelings. She loved
Falkner, and that with so much truth and delicacy, yet fervour of
passion, that scarcely could her virgin heart conceive a power more
absolute, a tie more endearing, than the gratitude she had vowed to
him; yet she intimately felt the difference that existed between her
deep-rooted attachment for him she named and looked on as her
father, and the spring of playful, happy, absorbing emotions that
animated her intercourse with Neville. To the one she dedicated her
life and services; she watched him as a mother may a child; a smile
or cheerful tone of voice was warmth and gladness to her anxious
bosom, and she wept over his misfortunes with the truest grief.
But there was more of the genuine attachment of mind for mind in
her sentiment for Neville. Falkner was gloomy and self-absorbed.
Elizabeth might grieve for, but she found it impossible to comfort
him. With Gerard it was far otherwise. Elizabeth had opened in his
soul an unknown spring of sympathy, to relieve the melancholy
which had hitherto overwhelmed him. With her he gave way freely
to the impulses of a heart which longed to mingle its hitherto
checked stream of feeling with other and sweeter waters. In every
way he excited her admiration as well as kindness. The poetry of his
nature suggested expressions and ideas at once varied and
fascinating. He led her to new and delightful studies, by unfolding to
her the pages of the poets of her native country, with which she was
little conversant. Except Shakspeare and Milton, she knew nothing of
English poetry. The volumes of Chaucer and Spenser, of ancient
date; of Pope, Gray, and Burns; and, in addition, the writings of a
younger, but divine race of poets, were all opened to her by him. In
music, also, he became her teacher. She was a fine musician of the
German school. He introduced her to the simpler graces of song;
and brought her the melodies of Moore, so "married to immortal
verse," that they can only be thought of conjointly. Oh, the happy
days of Oakly! How had each succeeding hour been gilded by the
pleasures of a nascent passion, of the existence of which she had
never before dreamed—and these were fled for ever! It was
impossible to feel assured of so sad a truth, and not to weep over
the miserable blight. Elizabeth commanded herself to appear
cheerful, but sadness crept over her solitary hours. She felt that the
world had grown, from being a copy of paradise, into a land of
labour and disappointment; where self-approbation was to be gained
through self-sacrifice; and duty and happiness became separate,
instead of united objects at which to aim.
From such thoughts she took refuge in the society of Falkner. She
loved him so truly, that she forgot her personal regrets—she forgot
even Neville when with him. Her affection for her benefactor was not
a stagnant pool, mantled over by memories existing in the depths of
her soul, but giving no outward sign; it was a fresh spring of
overflowing love—it was redundant with all the better portion of our
nature—gratitude, admiration, and pity for ever fed it, as from a
perennial fountain.
It was on a day, the fifth after the disclosure of Falkner, that she had
been taking her accustomed ride, and, as she rode, given herself up
to those reveries—now enthusiastic, now drooping and mournful—
that sprung from her singular and painful position. She returned
home, eager to forget in Falkner's society many a rebel thought, and
to drive away the image of her younger friend, by gazing on the
wasted, sinking form of her benefactor, in whose singularly noble
countenance she ever found new cause to devote her fortunes and
her heart. To say that he was "not less than archangel ruined," is not
to express the peculiar interest of Falkner's appearance. Thus had he
seemed, perhaps, thirteen years before at Treby; but gentle and
kindly sentiments, the softening intercourse of Elizabeth, the
improvement of his intellect, and the command he had exercised
over the demonstration of passion, had moulded his face into an
expression of benevolence and sweetness, joined to melancholy
thoughtfulness; an abstracted, but not sullen seriousness, that
rendered it interesting to every beholder. Since his confession to
Neville, since the die was cast, and he had delivered himself up to
his fate to atone for his victim, something more was added; exalted
resolution and serene lofty composure had replaced his usual
sadness; and the passions of his soul, which had before deformed
his handsome lineaments, now animated them with a beauty of
mind which struck Elizabeth at once with tenderness and admiration.
Now, longing to behold, to contemplate this dear face, and to listen
to a voice that always charmed her out of herself, and made her
forget her sorrows—she was disappointed to find his usual sitting-
room empty—it appeared even as if the furniture had been thrown
into disorder; there were marks of several dirty feet upon the carpet;
on the half-written letter that lay on the desk the pen had hastily
been thrown, blotting it. Elizabeth wondered a little, but the emotion
was passing away, when the head servant came into the room, and
informed her that his master had gone out, and would not return
that night.
"Not to-night!" exclaimed Elizabeth; "what has happened? who have
been here?"
"Two men, miss."
"Men! gentlemen?"
"No, miss, not gentlemen."
"And my father went away with them?"
"Yes, miss," replied the man, "he did indeed. He would not take the
carriage; he went in a hired post-chaise. He ordered me to tell you,
miss, that he would write directly, and let you know when you might
expect him."
"Strange, very strange is this!" thought Elizabeth. She did not know
why she should be disturbed, but disquiet invaded her mind; she felt
abandoned and forlorn, and, as the shades of evening gathered
round, even desolate. She walked from room to room, she looked
from the window, the air was chill, and from the east, yet she
repaired to the garden; she felt restless and miserable; what could
the event be that took Falkner away? She pondered vainly. The most
probable conjecture was, that he obeyed some summons from her
own relations. At length one idea rushed into her mind, and she
returned to the house, and rang for the servant. Falkner's wandering
life had prevented his having any servant of long-tried fidelity about
him—but this man was good-hearted and respectable—he felt for his
young mistress, and consulted with her maid as to the course they
should take under the present painful circumstances; and had
concluded that they should preserve silence as to what had
occurred, leaving her to learn it from their master's expected letter.
Yet the secret was in some danger, when, fixing her eyes on him,
Elizabeth said, "Tell me truly, have you no guess what this business
is that has taken your master away?"
The man looked confused; but, like many persons not practised in
the art of cross-questioning, Elizabeth balked herself, by adding
another inquiry before the first was answered; saying with a faltering
voice, "Are you sure, Thompson, that it was not a challenge—a
duel?"
The domestic's face cleared up: "Quite certain, miss, it was no duel
—it could not be—the men were not gentlemen."
"Then," thought Elizabeth, as she dismissed the man, "I will no
longer torment myself. It is evidently some affair of mere business
that has called him away. I shall learn all to-morrow."
Yet the morrow and the next day came, and Falkner neither wrote
nor returned. Like all persons who determine to conjecture no more,
Elizabeth's whole time was spent in endeavouring to divine the
cause of his prolonged absence and strange silence. Had any
communication from Neville occasioned his departure? was he sent
for to point out his victim's grave? That idea carried some probability
with it; and Elizabeth's thoughts flew fast to picture the solitary
shore, and the sad receptacle of beauty and love. Would Falkner and
Neville meet at such an hour? without a clew to guide her, she
wandered for ever in a maze of thought, and each hour added to her
disquietude. She had not gone beyond the garden for several days,
she was fearful of being absent when anything might arise; but
nothing occurred, and the mystery became more tantalizing and
profound.
On the third day she could endure the suspense no longer; she
ordered horses to be put to the carriage, and told the servant of her
intention to drive into town, and to call on Falkner's solicitor, to learn
if he had any tidings; that he was ill she felt assured—where and
how? away from her, perhaps deserted by all the world: the idea of
his sick-bed became intolerably painful; she blamed herself for her
inaction; she resolved not to rest till she saw her father again.
Thompson knew not what to say; he hesitated, begged her not to
go; the truth hovered on his lips, yet he feared to give it utterance.
Elizabeth saw his confusion; it gave birth to a thousand fears, and
she exclaimed, "What frightful event are you concealing? Tell me at
once. Great God! why this silence? Is my father dead?"
"No, indeed, miss," said the man, "but my master is not in London,
he is a long way off. I heard he was taken to Carlisle."
"Taken to Carlisle! Why taken? What do you mean?"
"There was a charge against him, miss," Thompson continued,
hesitating at every word, "the men who came—they apprehended
him for murder."
"Murder!" echoed his auditress; "then they fought! Gerard is killed!"
The agony of her look made Thompson more explicit. "It was no
duel," he said, "it was done many years ago; it was a lady who was
murdered, a Mrs. or Lady Neville."
Elizabeth smiled—a painful, yet a genuine smile; so glad was she to
have her worst fears removed, so futile did the accusation appear;
the smile passed away, as she thought of the ignominy, the
disgraceful realities of such a process—of Falkner torn from his
home, imprisoned, a mark for infamy. Weak minds are stunned by a
blow like this, while the stronger rise to the level of the exigency,
and grow calm from the very call made upon their courage.
Elizabeth might weep to remember past or anticipated misfortunes,
but she was always calm when called upon to decide and act; her
form seemed to dilate, her eyes flashed with a living fire, her whole
countenance beamed with lofty and proud confidence in herself.
"Why did you not tell me this before?"' she exclaimed. "What
madness possessed you to keep me in ignorance? How much time
has been lost! Order the horses! I must begone at once, and join my
father."
"He is in jail, miss," said Thompson. "I beg your pardon, but you had
better see some friend before you go."
"I must decide upon that," replied Elizabeth. "Let there be no delay
on your part, you have caused too much. But the bell rings; did I not
hear wheels? perhaps he is returned." She rushed to the outer door;
she believed that it was her father returned; the garden-gate
opened—two ladies entered; one was Lady Cecil. In a moment
Elizabeth felt herself embraced by her warm-hearted friend; she
burst into tears. "This is kind, more than kind!" she exclaimed; "and
you bring good news, do you not? My father is liberated, and all is
again well!"
CHAPTER XXXVIII
CHAPTER XXXIX
The first words that Elizabeth spoke, as she embraced Lady Cecil,
"You are come, then all is well," seemed to confirm her belief that
the offered protection of Mrs. Raby would sound to the poor orphan
as a hospitable shore to the wrecked mariner. She pressed her
fondly to her heart, repeating her own words, "All is well—dear, dear
Elizabeth, you are restored to us, after I believed you lost for ever."
"What, then, has happened?" asked Elizabeth, "and where is my
dear father?"
"Your father! Miss Raby," repeated a deep, serious, but melodious
voice; "whom do you call your father?"
Elizabeth, in her agitation, had not caught her aunt's name, and
turned with surprise to the questioner, whom Lady Cecil introduced
as one who had known and loved her real father; as her aunt, come
to offer a happy and honourable home—and the affection of a
relative to one so long lost, so gladly found.
"We have come to carry you off with us," said Lady Cecil; "your
position here is altogether disagreeable; but everything is changed
now, and you will come with us."
"But my father," cried Elizabeth; "for what other name can I give to
my benefactor? Dear Lady Cecil, where is he?"
"Do you not then know?" asked Lady Cecil, hesitatingly.
"This very morning I heard something frightful, heart-breaking; but
since you are here, it must be all a fiction, or at least the dreadful
mistake is put right. Tell me, where is Mr. Falkner?"
"I know less than you, I believe," replied her friend; "my information
is only gathered from the hasty letters of my brother, which explain
nothing."
"But Mr. Neville has told you," said Elizabeth, "that my dear father is
accused of murder; accused by him who possesses the best proof of
his innocence. I had thought Mr. Neville generous, unsuspicious—"
"Nor is it he," interrupted Lady Cecil, "who brings this accusation. I
tell you I know little; but Sir Boyvill is the origin of Mr. Falkner's
arrest. The account he read seemed to him unsatisfactory, and the
remains of poor Mrs. Neville. Indeed, dear Elizabeth, you must not
question me, for I know nothing; much less than you. Gerard puts
much faith in the innocence of Mr. Falkner."
"Bless him for that!" cried Elizabeth, tears gushing into her eyes. "Oh
yes, I knew that he would be just and generous. My poor, poor
father! by what fatal mistake is your cause judged by one incapable
of understanding or appreciating you?"
"Yet," said Lady Cecil, "he cannot be wholly innocent; the flight, the
catastrophe, the concealment of his victim's death; is there not guilt
in these events?"
"Much, much; I will not excuse or extenuate. If ever you read his
narrative, which, at his desire, I gave Mr. Neville, you will learn from
that every exculpation he can allege. It is not for me to speak, nor to
hear even of his past errors; never was remorse more bitter,
contrition more sincere. But for me, he had not survived the
unhappy lady a week; but for me, he had died in Greece, to expiate
his fault. Will not this satisfy his angry accusers?
"I must act from higher motives. Gratitude, duty, every human
obligation bind me to him. He took me, a deserted orphan, from a
state of miserable dependance on a grudging, vulgar woman; he
brought me up as his child; he was more to me than father ever
was. He has nursed me as my own mother would in sickness; in
perilous voyages he has carried me in his arms, and sheltered me
from the storm, while he exposed himself for my sake; year after
year, while none else have cared for, have thought, of me, I have
been the object of his solicitude. He has consented to endure life,
that I might not be left desolate, when I knew not that one of my
father's family would acknowledge me. Shall I desert him now?
Never!"
"But you cannot help him," said Lady Cecil; "he must be tried by the
laws of his country. I hope he has not in truth offended against
them; but you cannot serve him."
"Where is he, dear Lady Cecil? tell me where he is."
"I fear there can be no doubt he is in prison at Carlisle."
"And do you think that I cannot serve him there? in prison as a
criminal! Miserable as his fate makes me, miserable as I too well
know that he is, it is some compensation to my selfish heart to know
that I can serve him, that I can be all in all of happiness and comfort
to him. Even now he pines for me; he knows that I never leave his
side when in sorrow; he wonders I am not already there. Yes, in
prison, in shame, he will be happy when he sees me again. I shall
go to him, and then, too, I shall have comfort."
She spoke with a generous animation, while yet her eyes glistened,
and her voice trembled with emotion. Lady Cecil was moved, while
she deplored; she caressed her; she praised, while Mrs. Raby said,
"It is impossible not to honour your intentions, which spring from so
pure and noble a source. I think, indeed, that you overrate your
obligations to Mr. Falkner. Had he restored you to us after your
mother's death, you would have found, I trust, a happy home with
me. He adopted you, because it best pleased him so to do. He
disregarded the evil he brought upon us by so doing; and only
restored you to us when the consequence of his crimes prevented
him from being any longer a protection."
"Pardon me," said Elizabeth, "if I interrupt you. Mr. Falkner is a
suffering, he believed himself to be a dying, man; he lived in
anguish till he could declare his error, to clear the name of his
unhappy victim; he wished first to secure my future lot, before he
dared fate for himself; chance altered his designs; such were his
motives, generous towards me as they ever were."
"And you, dear Elizabeth," said Lady Cecil, "must act in obedience to
them and to his wishes. He anticipated disgrace from his disclosures
—a disgrace which you must not share. You speak like a romantic
girl of serving him in prison. You cannot guess what a modern jail is,
its vulgar and shocking inhabitants: the hideous language and
squalid sights are such that their very existence should be a secret
to the innocent: be assured that Mr. Falkner, if he be, as I believe
him, a man of honour and delicacy, will shudder at the very thought
of your approaching such contamination; he will be best pleased to
know you safe and happy with your family."
"What a picture do you draw!" cried Elizabeth, trying to suppress her
tears; "my poor, poor father, whose life hangs by a thread! how can
he survive the accumulation of evil? But he will forget all these
horrors when I am with him. I know, thank God, I do indeed know,
that I have power to cheer and support him, even at the worst."
"This is madness!" observed Lady Cecil, in a tone of distress.
Mrs. Raby interposed with her suggestions. She spoke of her own
desire, the desire of all the family, to welcome Elizabeth; she told
her that with them, belonging to them, she had new duties; her
obedience was due to her relatives; she must not act so as to injure
them. She alluded to their oppressed religion; to the malicious joy
their enemies would have in divulging such a tale as that would be,
if their niece's conduct made the whole course of events public. And,
as well as she could, she intimated that if she mixed up her name in
a tale so full of horror and guilt, her father's family could never after
receive her.
Elizabeth heard all this with considerable coldness. "It grieves me,"
she said, "to repay intended kindness with something like repulse. I
have no wish to speak of the past; nor to remind you that if I was
not brought up in obedience to you all, it was because my father
was disowned, my mother abandoned; and I, a little child, an
orphan, was left to live and die in dependance. I, who then bore
your name, had become a subject of niggard and degrading charity.
Then, young as I was, I felt gratitude, obedience, duty, all due to the
generous benefactor who raised me from this depth of want, and
made me the child of his heart. It is a lesson I have been learning
many years; I cannot unlearn it now. I am his; bought by his
kindness; earned by his unceasing care for me, I belong to him—his
child—if you will, his servant—I do not quarrel with names—a child's
duty I pay him, and will ever. Do not be angry with me, dear aunt, if
I may give you that name—dearest Lady Cecil, do not look so
imploringly on me—I am very unhappy. Mr. Falkner a prisoner,
accused of the most hideous crime—treated with ignominy—he
whose nerves are agonized by a touch—whose frame is even now
decaying through sickness and sorrow—and I, and every hope,
away. I am very unhappy. Do not urge me to what is impossible, and
thrice, thrice wicked. I must go to him; day and night I shall have no
peace till I am at his side; do not, for my sake do not, dispute this
sacred duty."
It was not thus that the two ladies could be led to desist; they
soothed her, but again returned to the charge. Lady Cecil brought a
thousand arguments of worldly wisdom, of feminine delicacy. Mrs.
Raby insinuated the duty owed to her family, to shield it from the
disgrace she was bringing on it. They both insisted on the
impossibility, on the foolish romance of her notions. Had she been
really his daughter, her joining him in prison was impracticable—out
of all propriety. But Elizabeth had been brought up to regard
feelings, rather than conventional observances; duties, not
proprieties. All her life Falkner had been her law, rule, every tie to
her; she knew and felt nothing beyond. When she had followed him
to Greece—when she had visited the Morea, to bear him, dying,
away—when at Zante she had watched by his sick couch, the world,
and all the Rabys it contained, were nothing to her; and now, when
he was visited by a far heavier calamity, when, in solitude and
misery, he had, besides her, no one comfort under heaven, was she
to adopt a new system of conduct, become a timid, home—bred
young lady, tied by the most frivolous rules, impeded by fictitious
notions of propriety and false delicacy? Whether they were right and
she were wrong—whether, indeed, such submission to society—such
useless, degrading dereliction of nobler duties, was adapted for
feminine conduct, and whether she, despising such bonds, sought a
bold and dangerous freedom, she could not tell; she only knew and
felt, that for her, educated, as she had been, beyond the narrow
paling of boarding-school ideas, or the refinements of a lady's
boudoir, that, where her benefactor was, there she ought, to be; and
that to prove her gratitude, to preserve her faithful attachment to
him amid dire adversity, was her sacred duty—a virtue before which
every minor moral faded and disappeared.
The discussion was long; and, even when they found her proof
against every attack, they would not give up. They entreated her to
go home with them for that day. A wild light beamed from her eyes.
"I am going home," she cried; "an hour hence, and I shall be gone
to where my true home is. How strange it is that you should imagine
that I could linger here!
"Be not afraid for me, dear Lady Cecil," she continued; "all will go
well with me; and you will, after a little reflection, acknowledge that
I could not act other than I do. And will you, Mrs. Raby, forgive my
seeming ingratitude? I acknowledge the justice of your demands. I
thank you for your proposed kindness. The name of Raby shall
receive no injury; it shall never escape my lips. My father will
preserve the same silence. Be not angry with me; but—except that I
remember my dear parents with affection—I would say, I take more
joy and pride in being his daughter, his friend at this need, than in
the distinction and prosperity your kindness offers. I give up every
claim on my family; the name of Raby shall not be tainted: but
Elizabeth Falkner, with all her wilfulness and faults, shall, at least,
prove her gratitude to him who bestowed that appellation on her."
And thus they parted. Lady Cecil veiling her distress in sullenness;
while Mrs. Raby was struck and moved by her niece's generosity,
which was in accordance with her own noble mind. But she felt that
other judges would sit upon the cause, and decide from other
motives. She parted from her as a pagan relative might from a
young Christian martyr—admiring, while she deplored her sacrifice,
and feeling herself wholly incapable of saving.
CHAPTER XL
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