Domestic fiction; Education -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Political fiction; Social problems -- Fiction; Utilitarianism -- Fiction
Low voices close at hand. His voice and hers. The appointment _was_ a
device to keep the brother away! There they were yonder, by the felled
tree.
Bending low among the dewy grass, Mrs. Sparsit advanced closer to them.
She drew herself up, and stood behind a tree, like Robinson Crusoe in his
ambuscade against the savages; so near to them that at a spring, and that
no great one, she could have touched them both. He was there secretly,
and had not shown himself at the house. He had come on horseback, and
must have passed through the neighbouring fields; for his horse was tied
to the meadow side of the fence, within a few paces.
‘My dearest love,’ said he, ‘what could I do? Knowing you were alone,
was it possible that I could stay away?’
‘You may hang your head, to make yourself the more attractive; _I_ don’t
know what they see in you when you hold it up,’ thought Mrs. Sparsit;
‘but you little think, my dearest love, whose eyes are on you!’
That she hung her head, was certain. She urged him to go away, she
commanded him to go away; but she neither turned her face to him, nor
raised it. Yet it was remarkable that she sat as still as ever the
amiable woman in ambuscade had seen her sit, at any period in her life.
Her hands rested in one another, like the hands of a statue; and even her
manner of speaking was not hurried.
‘My dear child,’ said Harthouse; Mrs. Sparsit saw with delight that his
arm embraced her; ‘will you not bear with my society for a little while?’
‘Not here.’
‘Where, Louisa?
‘Not here.’
‘But we have so little time to make so much of, and I have come so far,
and am altogether so devoted, and distracted. There never was a slave at
once so devoted and ill-used by his mistress. To look for your sunny
welcome that has warmed me into life, and to be received in your frozen
manner, is heart-rending.’
‘Am I to say again, that I must be left to myself here?’
‘But we must meet, my dear Louisa. Where shall we meet?’
They both started. The listener started, guiltily, too; for she thought
there was another listener among the trees. It was only rain, beginning
to fall fast, in heavy drops.
‘Shall I ride up to the house a few minutes hence, innocently supposing
that its master is at home and will be charmed to receive me?’
‘No!’
‘Your cruel commands are implicitly to be obeyed; though I am the most
unfortunate fellow in the world, I believe, to have been insensible to
all other women, and to have fallen prostrate at last under the foot of
the most beautiful, and the most engaging, and the most imperious. My
dearest Louisa, I cannot go myself, or let you go, in this hard abuse of
your power.’
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