English fiction -- 19th century; Tailors -- Fiction
Rose then left her aunt in a state of extreme indignation. It was a
clever move to send Mrs. Shorne to Lady Jocelyn. They were
antagonistic, and, rational as Lady Jocelyn was, and with her passions
under control, she was unlikely to side with Mrs. Shorne.
Now Rose had fought against herself, and had, as she thought,
conquered. In Portugal Evan’s half insinuations had given her small
suspicions, which the scene on board the Jocasta had half confirmed:
and since she came to communicate with her own mind, she bore the
attack of all that rose against him, bit by bit. She had not been too
blind to see the unpleasantness of the fresh facts revealed to her.
They did not change her; on the contrary, drew her to him faster—and
she thought she had completely conquered whatever could rise against
him. But when Juliana Bonner told her that day that Evan was not only
the son of the thing, but the thing himself, and that his name could be
seen any day in Lymport, and that he had come from the shop to Beckley,
poor Rosey had a sick feeling that almost sank her. For a moment she
looked back wildly to the doors of retreat. Her eyes had to feed on
Evan, she had to taste some of the luxury of love, before she could
gain composure, and then her arrogance towards those she called her
enemies did not quite return.
“In that letter you told me all—all—all, Evan?”
“Yes, all—religiously.”
“Oh, why did I miss it!”
“Would it give you pleasure?”
She feared to speak, being tender as a mother to his sensitiveness. The
expressive action of her eyebrows sufficed. She could not bear
concealment, or doubt, or a shadow of dishonesty; and he, gaining force
of soul to join with hers, took her hands and related the contents of
the letter fully. She was pale when he had finished. It was some time
before she was able to get free from the trammels of prejudice, but
when she did, she did without reserve, saying: “Evan, there is no man
who would have done so much.” These little exaltations and generosities
bind lovers tightly. He accepted the credit she gave him, and at that
we need not wonder. It helped him further to accept herself, otherwise
could he—his name known to be on a shop-front—have aspired to her
still? But, as an unexampled man, princely in soul, as he felt, why, he
might kneel to Rose Jocelyn. So they listened to one another, and
blinded the world by putting bandages on their eyes, after the fashion
of little boys and girls.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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