England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
And I said no more to perplex him, of the son in the Guards; but for
myself remembered that mythical personage, whatever was said to me on
the subject; and appreciated with the highest admiration that singularly
delicate line of association which suggested the reference to little
Derwie’s mind and thoughts. Yes, to be sure! the old women will put up
their aprons to their eyes when they talk about the son who has
’listed; the young women will keep a shadowy corner in their hearts for
that unfortunate--and yet it is not wicked to go for a soldier. I felt
Mr. Reredos’s handsome figure quite blotted out by the suggestion
conveyed in that of his housekeeper’s son. When I had finished my
housekeeping affairs, and given orders about the visitors we expected
for Easter--this I should have said was the Easter recess, the glimpse
of spring at Hilfont, which was all we could catch now that Derwent, to
his great affliction, was a Parliament man--I took my seat in the great
cheerful window of that room where we had breakfasted, and which
overlooked half the country. Far away in the distance the sun caught the
spires and roofs of Simonborough, with its cathedral faintly shining out
from among the lower level of the housetops, and nearer at hand struck
bright upon the slow and timid river which wound through the fields down
below us, at the bottom of this great broad slope of country, which had
no pretensions to be a hill, though its advantage of altitude in our
level district was greater than that of many an elevation twice or three
times as high. Spring was stealing into the long drooping branches of
those willows which marked the irregular line of the stream. Spring
brightened with doubtful, wavering dewy smiles over all the surface of
the country. I remember when I should have been glad to turn my eyes
indoors, away from the sweet suggestions of Nature conveyed by that
sweetest and most suggestive season; but I took the fullest and freest
enjoyment of it now; rather, I sat at the window calmly pleased and
unconscious, as we are when we are happy, feeling no contrast to wound
me between the world without and the world within--and considered fully
the circumstances of Alice Harley, and how I ought to forward, as
Derwent said, my dear girl’s establishment in life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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