England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
Alexander Wilson believed most fully in a judgment to come. When he
thought of it now, a certain sense of relief came over him. He need not
trouble so sorely; he might leave this sinner to his God. It is to be
feared that he thought more of God's justice than of His loving mercy
and forgiveness, as he decided to leave John Harman in His hands.
That evening at six o'clock he was to be again with Charlotte Home. For
Charlotte Harman's sake, he had denied himself that pleasure the night
before; but this evening the solitary man might enjoy the keen pleasure
of being with his very own. Mrs. Home was his nearest living
relation--the child of his own loved sister. He did not know yet whether
he could love her at all as he had loved his little Daisy; but he felt
quite sure that her children would twine themselves round his heart; for
already the remembrance of Daisy Home was causing it to beat high with
pleasure.
As the hour approached for his visit, he loaded himself with presents
not only for the children, but for the whole family. He said to himself
with much delight, that however much Mr. Harman's will might be tied up
for the present, yet Sandy Wilson's purse was open. He had far less idea
than Charlotte Harman what children really liked, but he loaded himself
with toys, cakes, and sweeties; and for his special pet Daisy over and
above the other two he bought the very largest doll that a Regent Street
shop could furnish him with. This doll was as heavy as a baby, and by no
means so beautiful to look at as its smaller companions. But Sandy was
no judge in such matters.
With his presents for the adults of the party he was more fortunate. For
his niece he purchased a black silk, which in softness, lustre, and
quality could not be surpassed; for Mr. Home he bought two dozen very
old port; for Anne, a bright blue merino dress.
These goods were packed into a four-wheeler, and, punctually at six
o'clock, that well-laden cab drew up at 10, Tremins Road. Three eager
pairs of eyes watched the unpacking, for the three pretty children,
dressed in their best, were in the dining-room; Mr. Home was also
present, and Charlotte had laid her tea-table with several unwonted
dainties in honor of her uncle's visit. Anne, the little maid, was
fluttering about; that well-laden cab had raised her spirits and her
hopes. She flew in and out, helping the cabby to bring the numerous
parcels into the hall.
"Ah! Annie, my girl, here's something for you," said Uncle Sandy,
tossing her dress to her. After which, it is to be feared, Anne went off
her head for a little bit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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