Diary fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Mystery fiction; Short stories, English
He unclasped her arms, and led her gently to a chair. At the same moment
there was a knock at the door, and Rose’s maid appeared, anxious
to consult her mistress on some of the preparations for the wedding
ceremony. No interruption could have been more welcome just at that
time. It obliged Rose to think of present trifles, and it gave her
brother an excuse for retiring to his study.
He sat down by his desk, doubting and heavy-hearted, and placed the
letter from the Academy of Sciences open before him.
Passing over all the complimentary expressions which it contained, his
eye rested only on these lines at the end: “During the first three years
of your professorship, you will be required to reside in or near Paris
nine months out of the year, for the purpose of delivering lectures and
superintending experiments from time to time in the laboratories.” The
letter in which these lines occurred offered him such a position as
in his modest self-distrust he had never dreamed of before; the lines
themselves contained the promise of such vast facilities for carrying
on his favorite experiments as he could never hope to command in his
own little study, with his own limited means; and yet, there he now
sat doubting whether he should accept or reject the tempting honors and
advantages that were offered to him--doubting for his sister’s sake!
“Nine months of the year in Paris,” he said to himself, sadly; “and Rose
is to pass her married life at Lyons. Oh, if I could clear my heart of
its dread on her account--if I could free my mind of its forebodings for
her future--how gladly I would answer this letter by accepting the trust
it offers me!”
He paused for a few minutes, and reflected. The thoughts that were in
him marked their ominous course in the growing paleness of his cheek,
in the dimness that stole over his eyes. “If this cleaving distrust from
which I cannot free myself should be in very truth the mute prophecy of
evil to come--to come, I know not when--if it be so (which God forbid!),
how soon she may want a friend, a protector near at hand, a ready refuge
in the time of her trouble! Where shall she then find protection or
refuge? With that passionate woman? With her husband’s kindred and
friends?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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