Hopes and Fears: or, scenes from the life of a spinsterYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
Hopes and Fears: or, scenes from the life of a spinster
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
England -- Social conditions -- 19th century -- Fiction; Single women -- Fiction
She had slept just long enough to lose the lovely entrance of Dublin Bay,
stiffen her limbs, and confuse her brains, and she stood still as the
stream of passengers began to rush trampling by her, feeling bewildered
and forlorn. Her cousin's voice was welcome, though over-loud and
somewhat piteous. 'Where are you, stewardess? where's the young lady?
Oh! Cilly, there you are. To leave me alone all this time, and here's
the stewardess saying we must go ashore at once, or lose the train. Oh!
the luggage, and I've lost my plaid,' and ghastly in the lamplight, limp
and tottering, Rashe Charteris clasped her arm for support, and made her
feel doubly savage and bewildered. Her first movement was to enjoin
silence, then to gaze about for the goods. A gentleman took pity on the
two ladies, and told them not to be deluded into trying to catch the
train; there would be another in an hour's time, and if they had any one
to meet them, they would most easily be found where they were.
'We have no one--we are alone,' said Lucilla; and his chivalry was so far
awakened that he handed them to the pier, and undertook to find their
boxes. Rashe was absolutely subdued, and hung shivering and helpless on
her cousin, who felt as though dreaming in the strange scene of darkness
made visible by the bright circles round the lamps, across which rapidly
flitted the cloaked forms of travellers presiding over queer, wild,
caricature-like shapes, each bending low under the weight of trunk or
bag, in a procession like a magic lantern, save for the Babel of shrieks,
cries, and expostulations everywhere in light or gloom.
A bell rang, an engine roared and rattled off. 'The train!' sighed
Horatia; 'we shall have to stay here all night.'
'Nonsense,' said Lucy, ready to shake her; 'there is another in an hour.
Stay quiet, do, or he will never find us.'
'Porter, ma'am--porrterr--'
'No, no, thank you,' cried Lucilla, darting on her rod-case and
carriage-bag to rescue them from a freckled countenance with claws
attached.
'We shall lose everything, Cilla; that's your trusting to a stranger!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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