A Tale of a Lonely ParishCrawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion)
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A Tale of a Lonely Parish
Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion)
Country life -- England -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Poor Nellie--had she had any idea of what the "game" was from which the
squire found it so hard to make his hound desist, she must have gone
almost mad with horror. For the game was her own father, poor child. But
she came back and sat beside her mother utterly unconscious of what might
have happened if Stamboul had once got beyond earshot, galloping along
the trail towards the disused vault at the back of the church. Mrs.
Goddard had started at the sounds and had put her hand to her forehead,
but Nellie's explanation was enough to quiet her, and she smiled faintly
and closed her eyes again. Then, half an hour later, Mrs. Ambrose came,
and would not be denied. She wanted to make Mrs. Goddard comfortable, she
said, when she found she was ill, and she did her best, being a kind and
motherly woman when not hardened by the presence of strangers. She told
her that John was coming on the next day, speaking with vast pride of his
success and omitting to look sternly at Mrs. Goddard as she had formerly
been accustomed to do when she spoke of the young scholar. Then at last
she went away, after exacting a promise from Mrs. Goddard to come and
dine, bringing Nellie with her, on the following day, in case she should
have recovered by that time from her headache.
But during all that night Mrs. Goddard lay awake, listening for the sound
she so much dreaded, of a creeping footstep on the slated path outside
and for the tapping at the window. Nothing came, however, and as the grey
dawn began to creep in through the white curtains, she fell peacefully
asleep. Nellie would not let her be waked, and breakfasted without her,
enjoying with childish delight the state of being waited on by Martha
alone.
Meanwhile, at an early hour, John arrived at the vicarage and was
received with open arms by Mr. Ambrose and his wife. The latter seemed to
forget, in the pleasure of seeing him again, that she had even once
spoken doubtfully of him or hinted that he was anything short of
perfection itself. And to prove how much she had done for him she
communicated with great pride the squire's message, to the effect that he
expected John at the Hall that very day.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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