Bungay Castle: A Novel. v. 1/2Bonhote, Mrs. (Elizabeth)
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Bungay Castle: A Novel. v. 1/2
Bonhote, Mrs. (Elizabeth)
English fiction -- 18th century
After this he returned to join the family, and said not a word of
what he had seen, nor the plans which floated in his own mind, in
consequence of the morning peregrinations he had taken.
CHAP. VI.
In the course of the day, Roseline asked a thousand questions, with
apparent indifference, of De Clavering, respecting the nature of
consumptive cases, their symptoms, progress, &c. and how people ought
to manage themselves in regard to diet, who were confined in damp
regions of a dungeon, or immured in the narrow precincts of a prison;
to all which she received such plain, direct, and experienced answers,
as she cherished hopes would enable her, with the approbation of
heaven, to be the humble means of restoring to health, or a more
promising degree of convalescence, the interesting object whose
secret sufferings hap stimulated her to make these unusual inquiries;
and what gave new life and added energy to her benevolent hopes was
the arrival of a letter from Sir Philip to Lady de Morney, in which
he was reluctantly obliged to inform her that his stay in London was
unfortunately prolonged, and he was sorry to find his absence from
the castle was likely to be protracted a considerable length of time
from the slow progress of the law, and the difficulties thrown in
the way by his opponents. This account would have given her paid a
few days before; it was now a source of pleasure, which produced the
most sanguine expectations of preserving, under Providence, the life
of a fellow-creature, or, at least, of rendering its closing scene
less hopeless and more comfortable.
A sensibility, like that which was lodged in the bosom of the artless
and innocent Roseline, I would wish all my sex to possess. So far
from tempting her to run from misery, it led her in search of it,
and, when found, it awakened every gentle passion of the mind into
immediate and resolute action; while the fictitious feeling, the
affected sensibility of a modern miss is confined to kicking,
fainting, or squalling at sight of a wretched object, and the little
they may really have will evaporate in the trouble of acting their
part so as to impose on the minds of others an unjust sense of their
own delicate and extreme compassion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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