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
By the time Mary's imagination had portrayed what paper, paint,
furniture, and habitation might make the house, and had discerned how
to arrange a pretty little study in case of her father's return; he had
completed the repair in a workmanlike manner, and putting two fingers
to his cap, asked, 'Any other little job for me, ma'am?'
Of course, he forgot the tools, till shamed by Mary's turning back for
them, and after a merry luncheon, served up in haste by Jane, they
betook themselves to Number 8, where the Miss Faithfulls were seated at
a dessert of hard biscuits and water, of neither of which they ever
partook: they only adhered to the hereditary institution of sitting for
twenty minutes after dinner with their red and purple doileys before
them.
Mary seemed to herself carried back fourteen years, and to understand
why her childish fancy had always believed Christiana's Mercy a living
character, when she found herself in the calm, happy little household.
The chief change was that she must now bend down, instead of reaching
up, to receive the kind embraces. Even the garments seemed unchanged,
the dark merino gowns, black silk aprons, white cap-ribbons, the soft
little Indian shawl worn by the elder sister, the ribbon bow by the
younger, distinctions that used to puzzle her infant speculation, not
aware that the coloured bow was Miss Mercy's ensign of youth, and that
its absence would have made Miss Salome feel aged indeed. The two
sisters were much alike--but the younger was the more spare, shrivelled
up into a cheery nonpareil, her bloom changed into something quite as
fresh and healthful, and her blithe tripping step always active, except
when her fingers were nimbly taking their turn. Miss Salome had become
more plump, her cheek was smoother and paler, her eye more placid, her
air that of a patient invalid, and her countenance more intellectual
than her sister's. She said less about their extreme enjoyment of the
yam, and while Mrs. Frost and Mary held counsel with Miss Mercy on
servants and furniture, there was a talk on entomology going on between
her and Fitzjocelyn.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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