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
His hand clenched, his brow lowered, and his mouth was set so savagely,
that the passing policeman looked in wonder from the dangerous face to
the clerical dress.
Early next morning he was at No. 8, and learnt that Mrs. Brook, as the
maid called her, had been very ill all night, and that the doctor was
still with her. Begging to see the doctor, Robert found that high fever
had set in, an aggravation of the low nervous fever that had been
consuming her strength all the spring, and her condition was already such
that there was little hope of her surviving the present attack. She had
been raving all night about the young lady with whom Mr. Sandbrook had
been walking by moonlight, and when the door of the little adjoining
bedroom was open, her moans and broken words were plainly audible.
Robert asked whether he should fetch her husband, and Mrs. Murrell caught
at the offer. Owen's presence was the single hope of restoring her, and
at least he ought to behold the wreck that he had wrought. Mrs. Murrell
gave a terrible thrust by saying, 'that the young lady at least ought to
be let know, that she might not be trusting to him.'
'Do not fear, Mrs. Murrell,' he said, almost under his breath. 'My only
doubt is, whether I can meet Owen Sandbrook as a Christian should.'
Cutting off her counsels on the unconverted nature, he strode off to find
his colleague, whom he perplexed by a few rapid words on the necessity of
going into the country for the day. His impatient condition required
vehement action; and with a sense of hurrying to rescue Phoebe, he could
scarcely brook the slightest delay till he was on his way to Hiltonbury,
nor till the train spared him all action could he pause to collect his
strength, guard his resentment, or adjust his measures for warning, but
not betraying. He could think of no honourable mode of dealing, save
carrying off Owen to London with him at once, sacrificing the sight of
his sister for the present, and either writing or going to her
afterwards, when the mode of dealing the blow should be more evident. It
cost him keen suffering to believe that this was the sole right course,
but he had bound himself to it by his promise to the poor suffering wife,
blaming himself for continually putting his sister before her in his
plans.
At Elverslope, on his demand for a fly for Hiltonbury, he was answered
that all were engaged for the Horticultural Show in the Forest; but the
people at the station, knowing him well, made willing exertions to
procure a vehicle for him, and a taxed cart soon making its appearance,
he desired to be taken, not to the Holt, but to the Forest, where he had
no doubt that he should find the object of his search.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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