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 do believe,' said Elizabeth, 'that you have had a grudge against him
ever since he made you an April fool. Oh! how capital it was,' cried
she, sitting down to laugh at the remembrance. 'To make you believe
that the beautiful work-box Uncle Edward sent you, was a case of
surgical instruments for Mr. Turner, to shew his gratitude for his
attendance upon Rupert when he had the fever, and for setting his mouth
to rights when his teeth were knocked out at school. Oh! there never
was such fun as to see how frightened you looked, and how curious Kate
and Horace were, and how Mamma begged him not to open the box and shew
her the horrid things.'
'I wish Rupert would keep to the truth with his jokes,' said Helen.
'Helen,' said Elizabeth, 'you cannot mean to say that he ever says what
is untrue. You are letting yourself be carried much too far by your
dislike.'
'If he does not positively assert what is not true, he often makes
people believe it,' said Helen.
'Only stupid people, who have no perception of a joke,' said Elizabeth;
'he never deceived me with any joke; it is only that you do not
understand.'
'I wonder how such a candid person as you are, can defend the slightest
departure from truth for any purpose,' said Helen.
'I would not defend anyone whom I did not believe to be upright and
open,' said Elizabeth; 'but it is only your slowness, and old spite
against Rupert because he used to joke you, that puts these fancies
into your head. Now I must go to the children; I hope, Helen, you will
really enter into the spirit of the day, little as you seem to care
about the church.'
Helen gave a deep sigh as her sister left the room; she was vexed at
having been laughed at, at the disregard of her arguments, at the
reproach, and perhaps a little at Elizabeth's having taken no notice of
the beautiful pyramid of cherries which had cost her half an hour's
labour.
There was some truth in what Helen said of her cousin, though few would
have given his faults so much prominence. Rupert Merton was an only
son, and very handsome, and this was the history of nearly all his
foibles. No one could say that his career at school, and so far at
college, had not been everything that could be wished, and most people
had nearly as high an opinion of him as he had of himself; but Helen,
who had almost always been made a laughing-stock when he was with her,
had not quite so agreeable a recollection of his lively, graceful,
pleasant manners as her sisters had, and was glad to find that his
tormenting ways were not entirely caused by her own querulous temper,
as Elizabeth sometimes told her they were.
When Mrs. Woodbourne came down, Helen's handiwork received its full
share of admiration, and Mrs. Woodbourne was much pleased by the girls'
forethought and activity, which had saved her from a great deal of
fatigue.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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