English fiction -- 19th century; Tailors -- Fiction
“A lady is here who has run away from the conjugal abode, and Lady
Jocelyn shelters her, and is hospitable to another, who is more
concerned in this lady’s sad fate than he should be. This may be
morals, my dear: but please do not talk of Portugal now. A fineish
woman with a great deal of hair worn as if her maid had given it one
comb straight down and then rolled it up in a hurry round one finger.
Malice would say carrots. It is called gold. Mr. Forth is in a glass
house, and is wrong to cast his sneers at perfectly inoffensive people.
“Perfectly impossible we can remain at Beckley Court together—if not
dangerous. Any means that Providence may designate, I would employ. It
will be like exorcising a demon. Always excuseable. I only ask a little
more time for stupid Evan. He might have little Bonner now. I should
not object; but her family is not so good.
“Now, do attend. At once obtain a copy of Strike’s Company people. You
understand—prospectuses. Tell me instantly if the Captain Evremonde in
it is Captain Lawson Evremonde. Pump Strike. Excuse vulgar words.
Whether he is not Lord Laxley’s half-brother. Strike shall be of use to
us. Whether he is not mad. Captain E——’s address. Oh! when I think of
Strike—brute! and poor beautiful uncomplaining Carry and her shoulder!
But let us indeed most fervently hope that his Grace may be balm to it.
We must not pray for vengeance. It is sinful. Providence will inflict
that. Always know that Providence is quite sure to. It comforts
exceedingly.
“Oh, that Strike were altogether in the past tense! No knowing what the
Duke might do—a widower and completely subjugated. It makes my bosom
bound. The man tempts me to the wickedest Frenchy ideas. There!
We progress with dear venerable Mrs. Bonner. Truly pious—interested in
your Louisa. She dreads that my husband will try to convert me to his
creed. I can but weep and say—never!
“I need not say I have my circle. To hear this ridiculous boy Harry
Jocelyn grunt under my nose when he has led me unsuspectingly away from
company—Harriet! dearest! He thinks it a sigh! But there is no time for
laughing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account