Dynevor Terrace; Or, The Clue of Life — Volume 1Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Dynevor Terrace; Or, The Clue of Life — Volume 1
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Cousins -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Upper class -- England -- Fiction
'Fitzjocelyn,' said the Earl, on the way home, 'do not think it
necessary to look at me whenever you receive an invitation. It makes
us both appear ridiculous, and you are in every respect your own
master.'
'I had rather not, thank you,' said Louis, in an almost provokingly
indifferent tone.
'It is full time you should assume your own guidance.'
'How little he knows how little that would suit him!' thought Louis,
sighing despondingly. 'Am I called on to sacrifice myself in
everything, and never even satisfy him?'
CHAPTER XVIII.
REST FOR THE WEARY.
Therefore, arm thee for the strife
All throughout this mortal life,
Soldier now and servant true,
Earth behind, and heaven in view.
REV. I. WILLIAMS.
The first impression on arriving at Northwold was, that the danger had
been magnified. Mrs. Frost's buoyant spirits had risen at the first
respite; and though there was a weight on Mary's brow, she spoke
cheerfully, and as if able to attend to other interests, telling Louis
of her father's wish for some good workmen to superintend the mines,
and asking him to consult his friends at Illershall on the subject.
Lord Ormersfield came down encouraged by his visit to the invalid, whom
he had found dressed and able to converse nearly as usual. She begged
him to come to dinner the next day, and spend the evening with her,
promising with a smile that if he would bring Louis, their aunt should
chaperon Mary.
When the Earl went upstairs after dinner, the other three closed round
the fire, and talked in a tranquil, subdued strain, on various topics,
sometimes grave, sometimes enlivened by the playfulness inherent in two
of the party. Aunt Kitty spoke of her earlier days, and Louis and Mary
ventured questions that they would have ordinarily deemed intrusive.
Yet it was less the matter than the manner of their dialogue--the deep,
unavowed fellow-feeling and mutual reliance--which rendered it so
refreshing and full of a kind of repose. Louis felt it like the
strange bright stillness, when birds sing their clearest, fullest
notes, and the horizon reach of sky beams with the softest, brightest
radiance, just ere it be closed out by the thunder-cloud, whose first
drops are pausing to descend; and to Mary it was peace--peace which she
was willing gratefully to taste to the utmost, from the instinctive
perception that the call had come for her to brace all her powers of
self-control and fortitude; while to the dear old aunt, besides her
enjoyment of her darling's presence, each hour was a boon that she
could believe the patient or the daughter, relieved and happy.
Louis was admitted for a few minutes' visit to the sick-chamber, and
went up believing that he ought to be playful and cheerful; but he was
nearly overcome by Mrs. Ponsonby's own brightness, as she hoped that
her daughter and aunt had made themselves agreeable.
'Thank you, I never was so comfortable, not even when my foot was bad.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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