Abbeychurch; Or, Self-Control and Self-ConceitYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Abbeychurch; Or, Self-Control and Self-Conceit
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
English fiction -- 19th century; Religious fiction
'I am splashed all over, so I do not care. Can I have one more look?'
said Harriet, in a melancholy voice.
Rupert handed her back to the island, where she took her last farewell
of poor Fido, all his long hair drenched with water, and the very same
blue ribbon which she had herself tied round his neck the day before,
floating, a funeral banner, on the surface of the stream. She
contemplated him until her weight and Rupert's had sunk the island so
much, that it was fast becoming a lake, while Elizabeth whispered to
Anne to propose presenting her with a forget-me-not, on Fido's part.
'I hope,' said Rupert, as they proceeded with their walk, 'that you are
fully sensible of poor Fido's generous self-sacrifice; he immolated
himself to remove, by the manner of his death, any suspicions of
Winifred's having the Fidophobia.'
'Perhaps,' said Elizabeth, 'he had some knowledge of the frightful
suspicions which attached to him, and, like the Irish varmint in St.
Patrick's days,
"went flop,
Slap bang into the water,
And thus committed suicide
To save himself from slaughter."'
They now began to consider how Fido could have met with his death.
Harriet was sure that some naughty boy must have thrown him in. Lucy
thought that in that case he would have lost his blue ribbon; Dora
indignantly repelled the charge of cruelty from the youth of
Abbeychurch; Elizabeth said such a puppy was very likely to fall off
the bridge; and Rupert decided that he had most probably been attacked
by a fit, to which, he said, half-grown puppies were often liable.
Rupert and Anne then began talking about a dog which they had lost some
time ago in nearly the same manner; and during this dialogue the party
divided, Harriet and Katherine walked on in close consultation, and
Lucy and Helen began helping Dora to sort and carry her bulrushes,
which detained them behind the others.
'What appears to me the most mysterious part of the story,' said
Rupert, 'is how the beloved Fido, petted and watched and nursed and
guarded as he seems to have been, should have contrived to stray from
your house as far as to the river.'
'Oh! that is no mystery at all,' said Elizabeth; 'we crossed the bridge
twice yesterday evening, and I dare say we left him behind us there.'
'What could you have been doing on the bridge yesterday evening?' said
Rupert. 'Oh! I know; I saw the people coming away from a tee-total
entertainment; you were certainly there, Anne, I hope you enjoyed it.'
'How very near the truth you do contrive to get, Rupert,' said
Elizabeth.
'Then,' cried Rupert, with a start, 'I see it all. I thought you all
looked very queer at breakfast. I understand it all. You have been to
the Mechanics' Institute.'
'Yes, Rupert,' said Elizabeth.
'No, but you do not mean to say that you really have, Lizzie and Anne,'
cried Rupert, turning round to look into their faces.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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