Dynevor Terrace; Or, The Clue of Life — Volume 2Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Dynevor Terrace; Or, The Clue of Life — Volume 2
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Cousins -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Upper class -- England -- Fiction
It was not easy to be a dignified steady governess that morning, and
when the lessons were finished, she could have danced home all the way.
She had scarcely reached the Terrace gate, when the well-known sound of
the wheels was heard, and in another moment she was between the two
dear cousins; Fitzjocelyn's eyes dancing with gladsomeness, and Mary's
broad tranquil brow and frank kindly smile, free from the shadow of a
single cloud! Clara's heart leapt up with joy, joy full and unmixed,
the guerdon of the spirit untouched by vanity or selfishness, without
one taint that could have mortified into jealous, disappointed pain.
It was bliss to one of those whom she loved best, it was the winning of
a brother and sister, and perhaps Clara's life had never had a happier
moment.
Lord Ormersfield could have thanked her for that joyous, innocent
welcome. He had paid her attentions for his son's sake, of which he
had become rather ashamed; and as Louis and Mary hastened on to meet
James and Isabel, he detained her for a moment, to say some special
words of kindness. Clara, perhaps, had an intuitive perception of his
meaning, and reference to her past heiress state, for she laughed
gaily, and said, 'Yes, I never was more glad of anything! He was so
patient that I was sure he deserved it! I always trusted to such a
time as this, when he used to talk to me for want of dear grandmamma.'
Mary was led upstairs to be introduced to the five children, while the
gentlemen went over the accounts in Oliver's room. Enough had been
rescued from the ruin to secure, not wealth, but fair competence; the
mines were disposed of to a company which would pay the value by
instalments, and all the remainder of the business was in train to be
easily wound up by Mr. Ward. Mr. Dynevor's gratitude was not
overpowering: he was short and dry, privately convinced that he could
have managed matters much better himself, and charging all the loss on
Fitzjocelyn's folly in letting Robson escape. But, though James was
hurt at his unthankfulness, and Lord Ormersfield could have been very
angry, the party most concerned did not take it much to heart; he
believed he had done his best, but an experienced eye might detect
blunders, and he knew it was hard to trust affairs out of one's own
hands.
Even the Earl was glad to escape to the sitting-room, though every one
was talking at once, and Mercy the loudest; and Louis, as the children
would call him in spite of their mamma, was at once seized on by Kitty
to be introduced to 'our brother.'
'And what is his name, Kitty?'
'Woland!' shouted all the young ladies in chorus.
'Sir Woland is in the book that mamma did make,' said Kitty.
Louis looked at Isabel with laughing eyes.
'It was Uncle Oliver's great wish,' she said, 'and we did not wish to
remember the days of Sir Hubert.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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