Domestic fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Family -- England -- Fiction
Clarence told us what he knew or guessed; and we afterwards understood
the matter to have come about chiefly through poor Griff’s weakness of
character, and love of amusement and flattery. The boyish flirtation
with Selina Clarkson had never entirely died away, though it had been
nothing more than the elder woman’s bantering patronage and easy
acceptance of the youth’s equally gay, jesting admiration. It had,
however, involved some raillery on his attachment to the little
Methodistical country girl, and this gradually grew into jealousy of
her—especially as Griff became more of a man, and a brilliant member of
society. The detention from the funeral had been a real victory on the
widow’s part, and the few times when Clarence had seen them together he
had been dismayed at the _cavaliere serviente_ terms on which Griff
seemed to stand; but his words of warning were laughed down. The rest
was easy to gather. He had gone about on the round of visits almost as
an appendage to Lady Peacock, till they came to a free and easy house,
where her coquetry and love of admiration brought on one of those
disputes which rendered his championship needful; and such defence could
only have one conclusion, especially in Scotland, where hasty private
marriages were still legal. What an exchange! Only had Griff ever
comprehended the worth of his treasure?
Emily went as late as she could, that there might be the less chance of a
tête-à-tête, in which she might be surprised into a betrayal of her
secret: indeed she only started at last when Martyn’s impatience had
become intolerable.
What was our amazement when, much earlier than we expected, we saw Mr.
Fordyce driving up in his phaeton, and heard the story he had to tell.
Emily’s delay had succeeded in bringing her only just in time for the
luncheon that was to be the children’s dinner. There was a keen-looking,
active, sallow clergyman, grizzled, and with an air of having seen much
service; a pale, worn wife, with a gentle, sensible face; and a
bewildering flock of boys and girls, all apparently under the command of
a very brisk, effective-looking elder sister of fourteen or fifteen, who
seemed to be the readiest authority, and to decide what and how much each
might partake of, among delicacies, evidently rare novelties.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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