England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
But it surprised me to find that he, poor fellow, was never the object
of his mother’s anxiety. She was sorry, with a sort of contempt for his
“infatuation,” and could not for her life imagine what men could see in
that Miss Reredos. Mrs. Harley was a very kind and tender mother, ready
at any time to deny herself for any real gratification to her boy; but
she did not make much account of his heartbreak, of which “nothing could
come.” For all practical purposes Johnnie’s love-tale was but a
fable--nothing could ever come of it. Anything so unlikely as that Miss
Reredos would marry the cripple never entered anybody’s mind but his
own. And Mrs. Harley accordingly took it calmly, save for a momentary
outburst of words now and then against the cause of Johnnie’s
delusion--that was all. Nothing save the bitter disappointment, the
violent mortification, the youthful despair, all augmented and made
doubly poignant by the ill health and infirmities of this unfortunate
boy, could result from his unlucky love-fever. So his mother was calm,
and made no account of that among her may troubled and anxious concerns.
As for Alice, she was still Mrs. Harley’s greatest grievance, though I
was not trusted with the same confidences, nor implored to use my
influence, as before. Alice was more capricious, more tantalizing, less
to be reckoned on than ever. She had, I suppose, dismissed Mr. Reredos
with less courtesy than the Rector believed due to him, for he went
about his duties with a certain grim sullenness, like an injured man,
and never permitted himself to mention her name. I was in the Rector’s
ill graces, as well as in those of Alice. He could not forgive me any
more than she could, for the confidence themselves had bestowed. It was
rather hard upon me to be thus excommunicated for no ill-doings of my
own; but I bore it as best I could, sorry for Mr. Reredos, and not
doubting that, some time or other, Alice would come to herself.
It was thus, in our immediate surroundings, that we spent the time until
Bertie’s return.
CHAPTER XXII.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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