Americans -- England -- Fiction; Bildungsromans; Love stories; Villages -- England -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
In Slowbridge, America was not approved of--in fact, was almost entirely
ignored, as a country where, to quote Lady Theobald, "the laws were
loose, and the prevailing sentiments revolutionary." It was not
considered good taste to know Americans,--which was not unfortunate, as
there were none to know; and Miss Belinda Bassett had always felt a
delicacy in mentioning her only brother, who had emigrated to the United
States in his youth, having first disgraced himself by the utterance of
the blasphemous remark that "he wanted to get to a place where a fellow
could stretch himself, and not be bullied by a lot of old tabbies." From
the day of his departure, when he had left Miss Belinda bathed in tears
of anguish, she had heard nothing of him; and here upon the threshold
stood Mary Anne, with delighted eagerness in her countenance,
repeating,--
"Your niece, mum, from 'Meriker!"
And, with the words, her niece entered.
Miss Belinda put her hand to her heart.
The young lady thus announced was the prettiest, and at the same time the
most extraordinary-looking, young lady she had ever seen in her life.
Slowbridge contained nothing approaching this niece. Her dress was so
very stylish that it was quite startling in its effect; her forehead was
covered down to her large, pretty eyes themselves, with curls of
yellow-brown hair; and her slender throat was swathed round and round
with a grand scarf of black lace.
She made a step forward, and then stopped, looking at Miss Belinda. Her
eyes suddenly, to Miss Belinda's amazement, filled with tears.
"Didn't you," she said,--"oh, dear! _Didn't_ you get the letter?"
"The--the letter!" faltered Miss Belinda. "What letter, my--my dear?"
"Pa's," was the answer. "Oh! I see you didn't."
And she sank into the nearest chair, putting her hands up to her face,
and beginning to cry outright.
"I--am Octavia B-bassett," she said. "We were coming to surp-prise you,
and travel in Europe; but the mines went wrong, and p-pa was obliged to
go back to Nevada."
"The mines?" gasped Miss Belinda.
"S-silver-mines," wept Octavia. "And we had scarcely landed when Piper
cabled, and pa had to turn back. It was something about shares, and he
may have lost his last dollar."
Miss Belinda sank into a chair herself.
"Mary Anne," she said faintly, "bring me a glass of water."
Her tone was such that Octavia removed her handkerchief from her eyes,
and sat up to examine her.
"Are you frightened?" she asked, in some alarm.
Miss Belinda took a sip of the water brought by her handmaiden, replaced
the glass upon the salver, and shook her head deprecatingly.
"Not exactly frightened, my dear," she said, "but so amazed that I find
it difficult to--to collect myself."
Octavia put up her handkerchief again to wipe away a sudden new gush of
tears.
"If shares intended to go down," she said, "I don't see why they couldn't
go down before we started, instead of waiting until we got over here, and
then spoiling every thing."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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