A Life's Morning

Name: A Life's Morning
Author: Gissing, George

Gissing, George

English fiction -- 19th century

'What do you think I overheard one of our spectacled friends say this
morning--"_Sehen Sie mal_,"--you were walking at a little
distance--"_da haben Sie das Muster des englischen Aristokraten_. _O,
der gute, schlichte Junge_!"'

Wilfrid had been working up his German. He stopped rowing, red with
vexation.

'That is a malicious invention,' he declared.

'Nothing of the kind! The truth of the remark struck me.'

'I am obliged to you.'

'But, my dear boy, what is there to be offended at? The man envied you
with all his heart; and it is delightful to see you begin to look so
smooth about the cheeks.'

'I am neither an aristocrat, nor _schlicht_!'

'An aristocrat to the core. I never knew any one so sensitive on points
of personal dignity, so intolerant of difference of opinion in others,
so narrowly self-willed! Did you imagine yourself to have the air of a
hero of romance, of the intense school?'

Wilfrid looked into her eyes and laughed.

'That is your way of saying that you think my recent behaviour
incongruous. You wish to impress upon me how absurd I look from the
outside?'

'It is my way of saying that I am sorry for you.'

He laughed again.

'Then the English aristocrat is an object of your pity?'

'Certainly; when he gets into a false position.'

'Ah!--well, suppose we talk of something else. Look at the moon rising
over that shoulder of the hill.'

'That, by way of proving that you are romantic. No, we won't talk of
something else. What news have you from England?'

'None,' he replied, regarding the gleaming drops that fell from his
suspended oar.

'And you are troubled that the post brings you nothing?'

'How do you know?'

'Your emotions are on the surface.'

He made no reply.

'Ah!' Mrs. Rossall sighed, 'what a pity you are so independent. I often
think a man's majority ought to come ten years later than it does. Most
of you are mere boys till thirty at least, and you go and do things that
you repent all the rest of your lives. Dare you promise to come to me in
ten years and tell me with complete frankness what you think of--a
certain step?'

He smiled scornfully.

'Certainly; let us register the undertaking.'

After pausing a moment, he continued with an outburst of vehemence--a
characteristic of Wilfrid's speech.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

A Life's MorningGissing, George

General

A Life's Morning

Gissing, George

English fiction -- 19th century

'What do you think I overheard one of our spectacled friends say this
morning--"_Sehen Sie mal_,"--you were walking at a little
distance--"_da haben Sie das Muster des englischen Aristokraten_. _O,
der gute, schlichte Junge_!"'

Wilfrid had been working up his German. He stopped rowing, red with
vexation.

'That is a malicious invention,' he declared.

'Nothing of the kind! The truth of the remark struck me.'

'I am obliged to you.'

'But, my dear boy, what is there to be offended at? The man envied you
with all his heart; and it is delightful to see you begin to look so
smooth about the cheeks.'

'I am neither an aristocrat, nor _schlicht_!'

'An aristocrat to the core. I never knew any one so sensitive on points
of personal dignity, so intolerant of difference of opinion in others,
so narrowly self-willed! Did you imagine yourself to have the air of a
hero of romance, of the intense school?'

Wilfrid looked into her eyes and laughed.

'That is your way of saying that you think my recent behaviour
incongruous. You wish to impress upon me how absurd I look from the
outside?'

'It is my way of saying that I am sorry for you.'

He laughed again.

'Then the English aristocrat is an object of your pity?'

'Certainly; when he gets into a false position.'

'Ah!--well, suppose we talk of something else. Look at the moon rising
over that shoulder of the hill.'

'That, by way of proving that you are romantic. No, we won't talk of
something else. What news have you from England?'

'None,' he replied, regarding the gleaming drops that fell from his
suspended oar.

'And you are troubled that the post brings you nothing?'

'How do you know?'

'Your emotions are on the surface.'

He made no reply.

'Ah!' Mrs. Rossall sighed, 'what a pity you are so independent. I often
think a man's majority ought to come ten years later than it does. Most
of you are mere boys till thirty at least, and you go and do things that
you repent all the rest of your lives. Dare you promise to come to me in
ten years and tell me with complete frankness what you think of--a
certain step?'

He smiled scornfully.

'Certainly; let us register the undertaking.'

After pausing a moment, he continued with an outburst of vehemence--a
characteristic of Wilfrid's speech.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

A Life's Morning

A Life's Morning

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