Domestic fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Family -- England -- Fiction
My parents were at first inclined to take the same line, and be vexed
with Griff for an act of impertinence towards a guest. He had a great
deal of difficulty in inducing the elders to believe him in earnest, or
treat him as a man capable of knowing his own mind; and even thus they
felt as if his addresses to Miss Fordyce were, under present
circumstances, taking almost an unfair advantage of the other family—at
which our youthful spirits felt indignant.
Yet, after all, such a match was as obvious and suitable as if it had
been a family compact, and the only objection was the youth of the
parties. Mrs. Fordyce would fain have believed her daughter’s heart to
be not yet awake, and was grieved to find childhood over, and the hero of
romance become the lover; and she was anxious that full time should be
given to perceive whether her daughter’s feelings were only the result of
the dazzling aureole which gratitude and excited fancy had cast around
the fine, handsome, winning youth. Her husband, however, who had himself
married very young, and was greatly taken with Griff, besides being
always tender-hearted, did not enter into her scruples; but, as we had
already found out, the grand-looking and clever man of thirty-eight was,
chiefly from his impulsiveness and good-nature, treated as the boy of the
family. His old father, too, was greatly pleased with Griff’s spirit,
affection, and purpose, as well as with my father’s conduct in the
matter; and so, after a succession of private interviews, very
tantalising to us poor outsiders, it was conceded that though an
engagement for the present was preposterous, it might possibly be
permitted when Ellen was eighteen if Griff had completed his university
life with full credit. He was fervently grateful to have such an object
set before him, and my father was warmly thankful for the stimulus.
That last evening was very odd and constrained. We could not help
looking on the lovers as new specimens over which some strange
transformation had passed, though for the present it had stiffened them
in public into the strictest good behaviour. They would have been
awkward if it had been possible to either of them, and, save for a
certain look in their eyes, comported themselves as perfect strangers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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