Contraband; Or, A Losing HazardWhyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
General
Contraband; Or, A Losing Hazard
Whyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
When Picard went his way, Jin clasped the boy in her arms, as if he had
just been rescued from some imminent danger; nor could all Kate
Cremorne's persuasions, calling an hour afterwards in the pony-carriage,
induce her to leave him during the rest of the afternoon.
It was for no want of nursing, from no lack of care and culture, that
this poor little flower faded and withered away.
August waned into September, and still the child drooped with the
drooping leaves. To the doctor, to the landlady, to the weeping
maid-of-all-work, to every one, save only a mother, it was evident that
his Christmas carols would be sung to him by the angels in heaven.
But though here a poor little violet may be trampled into earth, is that
a reason why the fairest garden flowers should fail to bloom, fragrant
and splendid, over yonder? Never a red rose in all the garlands of the
house of Lancaster blushed so becomingly, to Goldthred's taste, as did
his own affianced bride when she ordered him to ask her whether she had
not better think about naming the day of their marriage.
It was fixed for the middle of the month, the lady arranging to spend
her honeymoon at a farm-house of her own, far off in the West of
England, where there was excellent partridge-shooting. She explained her
arrangements to Helen with characteristic frankness.
"You see, my dear, I've been married before, and I know what it is. When
Mr. Lascelles and I were alone together, the first week, it was _awful_!
I wouldn't have believed man or woman could be so bored, and live. He
must have hated it, and, I'm sure, so did I. Now, I don't want my
goldfinch to be bored with _me_, particularly at first; so I shall send
him out shooting. He'll come home tired and hungry, and we shall make no
fuss, but feel as if we'd been married for years. 'Pon my word, dear,
he's such a good fellow, I wish we had!"
To all which wisdom, gathered from experience, Helen turned an attentive
ear, because of the pleadings urged by a certain young officer, who felt
and owned himself unworthy of the happiness he implored day by day, hour
by hour, till she contradicted him flatly, out of the fulness of her own
heart. Frank Vanguard succeeded in justifying himself before an
exceedingly lenient tribunal; and although, in my opinion, the
unaccountable silence of one woman is no valid excuse for transferring
allegiance incontinently to another, I do not imagine ladies themselves
are equally exclusive in their notions of property. They affect a very
stringent law of trespass, no doubt; yet appear sufficiently merciful
to habitual and hardened offenders.
The most jealous of them seem to appreciate an admirer none the less
that he has offered incense at many foreign shrines. If he should have
tumbled a goddess or two off her pedestal, they profess themselves
shocked indeed, and are loud in reproof, but seem to like him all the
better for his infidelity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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