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
One day, however, when he was forced to go to Northwold on business,
Louis put on a fit of coaxing importunity. Nothing would serve him but
some of Jane Beckett's choice dried pears, in the corner of the oaken
cupboard, the key of which was in Aunt Kitty's pocket, and no one must
fetch them for him but Aunt Kitty herself, he was so absurdly earnest
and grave about them, that Jane scolded him, and Mrs. Frost saw
recovery in his arch eyes; understanding all the time that it was all
an excuse for complimenting Jane, and sending her to air herself, visit
the Faithfull sisters, and inspect the Lady of Eschalott. So she
consented to accompany Lord Ormersfield, and leave their charge to Mrs.
Ponsonby, who found Louis quite elated at the success of his
manoeuvre--so much disposed to talk, and so solicitous for the good of
his nurses, that she ventured on a bold stroke.
His chamber was nearly as much like a lumber-room as ever; for any
attempt to clear away or disturb his possessions had seemed, in his
half-conscious condition, to excite and tease him so much, that it had
been at once relinquished. Although the room was large, it was always
too much crowded with his goods; and the tables and chairs that had
been brought in during his illness, had added to the accumulation which
was the despair of Mrs. Beckett and Mr. Frampton. Mrs. Ponsonby thought
it was time for Louis to make a sacrifice in his turn, and ventured to
suggest that he was well enough to say where some of his things might
be bestowed; and though he winced, she persevered in representing how
unpleasant it must be to his father to live in the midst of so much
confusion. The debonnaire expression passed over his face, as he
glanced around, saying, 'You are right. I never reflected on the
stretch of kindness it must have been. It shall be done. If I lose
everything, it will not be soon that I find it out.'
It evidently cost him a good deal, and Mrs. Ponsonby proposed that Mary
should come and deal with his treasures; a plan at which he caught so
eagerly, that it was decided that no time was like the present, and
Mary was called. He could move nothing but his hands; but they were
eagerly held out in welcome: and his eyes glittered with the bright
smile that once she had feared never to see again. She felt a moisture
in her own which made her glad to turn aside to her task even while he
complimented her with an allusion to the labours of Hercules. It did
not seem uncalled-for, when she began by raising a huge sheet of paper
that had been thrown in desperation to veil the confusion upon the
table, and which proved to be the Ordnance map of the county,
embellished with numerous streaks of paint. 'The outlines of the old
Saxon wappentakes,' said Louis: 'I was trying to make them out in blue,
and the Roman roads in red. That mark is spontaneous; it has been
against some paint.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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