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
'But does it not seem incredible,' said Elizabeth, 'that I, Elizabeth
Woodbourne, should have voluntarily meddled with a radical, levelling
affair, should have sought out Mrs. Turner and all the set I most
dislike, done perhaps an infinity of mischief, and all because Kate
wanted to go out on a party of pleasure with that foolish Willie. Oh!
Anne, I wish you would beat me.'
'Would that be any comfort to you?' said Anne, smiling.
'Yes,' said Elizabeth; 'I should feel as if I was suffering a little
for my madness. Oh! how I hope Papa will speak to me about it. If he
does not, I shall see his displeasure in his eyes, and oh! I could bear
anything better than the silent stern way in which he used to look at
me, once before, when I had behaved very ill. And then, to-morrow is
Sunday, and I shall scarcely see him all day, and he will have no time
to speak to me; and how can I get through a Sunday, feeling that he is
angry with me? how shall I teach the children, or do anything as usual?
Anne, what do you think was the first sound in my ears when I awoke
this morning, and has been returning upon me all day?--the words, "It
was a tree to be desired to make one wise."'
'Little wisdom we have gained from it,' said Anne.
'Eve's wisdom,' said Elizabeth, 'the knowledge of evil, and the wisdom
of vanity and vexation of spirit. But was it not curious, Anne? when
first I woke, before I had opened my eyes, those words were sounding in
my ears, like a dream of Papa's voice, reading the Lesson at church; I
almost fell asleep again, and again those words came back in Papa's
voice, and then I woke entirely, and before I had seen what kind of day
it was, before I knew whether it was Saturday or Sunday, I was sure
there was something wrong, and then there was all this black Mechanics'
Institute business before me. And all through this day those words
have been ringing in my ears, and coming upon me like the pressure of
King James's iron belt.'
'Have they indeed?' said Anne, 'I could hardly have believed it. I have
not seen your "look o'ercast and lower," like his.'
'Perhaps not,' said Elizabeth; 'but yet I was like him.
"Forward he rushed with double glee
Into the tide of revelry."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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