Harry Joscelyn; vol. 3 of 3Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
Harry Joscelyn; vol. 3 of 3
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Families -- England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
afterwards--perhaps--would ask for his reward. Such was the natural
sequence of events. To do Lydia justice, however, this visionary prince
was a secondary personage, only indulged in as a dream by way of
recreation, after she had, in her thoughts, tracked Harry down, and got
him at her mercy.
She had not much society or recreation at the White House. There were
times, indeed, when, if it had been possible for a girl to have done so,
Lydia would have had no objection to try, as Harry had done, what the
society of the “Red Lion” could do for her; but to do her justice one
trial would have been enough. She did what was quite as good, and more
innocent; she ran off sometimes into the kitchen of the White House, and
talked with the servants, and heard a hundred stories both of the past
and present, and learned the countryside, so that she knew who everybody
was, and their mothers, and their wives, and all that had happened to
them. It was there, rather than from her mother and her sister, that she
heard about Harry. The old cook remembered everything about him, from
the time when he had cut his teeth. She had a recollection of that night
when he had gone away, and still excused herself for not having gone to
the rescue. “T’ master was all about t’ house, travelling up and down in
his stocking-feet--was it my part to oop and open the door?” Thus her
apologies accused her according to the proverb. The other women were
younger, but they too had something to tell. And then Liddy would go
back to the quietude of the parlour, where her mother was sitting in the
same attitude, reading the same book. The parlour looked cheerful
enough, but there was never any change in it, not half so much as in the
kitchen, where some one was always moving about, and there was a
perpetual flow of talk. Liddy never spent an evening away from home,
except two or three times a year to her sister’s, when there was “a
party” prepared weeks in advance, and talked of for months after; or at
Dr. Selby’s in the village, where now and then there were entertainments
of a homelier kind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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