Complete Project Gutenberg Works of George MeredithMeredith, George
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Complete Project Gutenberg Works of George Meredith
Meredith, George
English fiction -- 19th century
The daughters of parchment rallied him concerning Miss Clare Forey. His
hourly letters to Raynham, and silence as to everything and everybody
there, his nervousness, and unwonted propensity to sudden inflammation of
the cheeks, were set down for sure signs of the passion. Miss Letitia
Thompson, the pretty and least parchmenty one, destined by her Papa for
the heir of Raynham, and perfectly aware of her brilliant future, up to
which she had, since Ripton's departure, dressed and grimaced, and
studied cadences (the latter with such success, though not yet fifteen,
that she languished to her maid, and melted the small factotum
footman)--Miss Letty, whose insatiable thirst for intimations about the
young heir Ripton could not satisfy, tormented him daily in revenge, and
once, quite unconsciously, gave the lad a fearful turn; for after dinner,
when Mr. Thompson read the paper by the fire, preparatory to sleeping at
his accustomed post, and Mama Thompson and her submissive female brood
sat tasking the swift intricacies of the needle, and emulating them with
the tongue, Miss Letty stole behind Ripton's chair, and introduced
between him and his book the Latin initial letter, large and illuminated,
of the theme she supposed to be absorbing him, as it did herself. The
unexpected vision of this accusing Captain of the Alphabet, this
resplendent and haunting A. fronting him bodily, threw Ripton straight
back in his chair, while Guilt, with her ancient indecision what colours
to assume on detection, flew from red to white, from white to red, across
his fallen chaps. Letty laughed triumphantly. Amor, the word she had in
mind, certainly has a connection with Arson.
But the delivery of a letter into Master Ripton's hands, furnished her
with other and likelier appearances to study. For scarce had Ripton
plunged his head into the missive than he gave way to violent transports,
such as the healthy-minded little damsel, for all her languishing
cadences, deemed she really could express were a downright declaration to
be made to her. The boy did not stop at table. Quickly recollecting the
presence of his family, he rushed to his own room. And now the girl's
ingenuity was taxed to gain possession of that letter. She succeeded, of
course, she being a huntress with few scruples and the game unguarded.
With the eyes of amazement she read this foreign matter:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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