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
'And I suppose,' proceeded Rupert, 'that the gentleman is to extract
poor Fido's faithful heart, and wear it next his own. I never should
have devised so refined and sentimental a souvenir. It is far beyond
forget-me-nots and arrows. So professional too.'
Elizabeth and Anne laughed so much that they could neither of them
speak for some moments; but when Anne recovered, she took her brother
by the arm and whispered, 'Rupert, the less you say about the Turners
or Fido, the better. I will explain it all to you when we have an
opportunity.'
Elizabeth thanked her by a look; and at this moment Dora, who had been
far in advance with Katherine and the Hazlebys, came running back to
beg Rupert to gather for her some fine bulrushes which grew on the
brink of the river. Rupert was very willing to comply with her
request; but Elizabeth recommended Dora to leave them till they should
return, and not to take the trouble of carrying them to Whistlefar
Castle and back again.
Leaving the river, they began to ascend a steep chalky lane, which had
been wet all the winter, and was now full of rough hardened wheel-ruts
and holes made by slipping horses. Elizabeth thought that Robert
Bruce's calthorps could hardly have made the ground more uneven, and
she was just going to say so, when Helen groaned out, 'What a horrid
place! I slip and bruise my ancle every minute.' Upon which she
immediately took the other side of the question, and answered, 'It is
not nearly so bad as the long lane on the down, and you never complain
of that.'
'Oh! but this is all up-hill,' said Helen.
'I am not in the least tired, Helen,' said Dora, who with Rupert's
assistance was taking flying leaps over the ruts.
'You? no, I should think not,' said Helen, in so piteous a tone, that
Rupert very good-naturedly waited till she came up to him, and then
offered her his arm.
On seeing this, Harriet was rather vexed that she had not been first
noticed by the gentleman, and began to make heavy complaints of the
badness of the road, but no one paid much attention to her. Elizabeth
however gave her arm to Lucy, who never could bear much fatigue.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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