In Trust: The Story of a Lady and Her LoverOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
In Trust: The Story of a Lady and Her Lover
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fiction
gravely: would he mind? what would he say? but the smile came without
her knowledge. What could he say but one thing? If it had been another
man, there might have been doubts and hesitations--but Cosmo! The smile
stole to the corners of her mouth--a melting softness came into her
heart. How little need was there to question! Did not she _know_?
Her thoughts were so full of this that she did not hear another foot on
the gravel, and when Heathcote spoke she awakened with a start, and came
down out of that lofty hermitage of her thoughts with little
satisfaction; but when he said something of the beauty of the night and
the fascination of all those voices of the wind and woods, Anne, whether
willingly or not, felt herself compelled to be civil. She came down
from her abstraction, admitting, politely, that the night was fine.
‘But,’ she said, ‘it is very cold, and the wind is rising every moment;
I was thinking of going in.’
‘I wonder if you would wait for a few minutes, Miss Mountford, and hear
something I have to say.’
‘Certainly,’ Anne said; but she was surprised; and now that it was no
longer her own will which kept her here, the wind all at once became
very boisterous, and the ‘silver lights and darks’ dreary. ‘Do you know
we have a ghost belonging to us?’ she said. ‘She haunts that lime
avenue. We ought to see her to-night.’
‘We have so little time for ghosts,’ said Heathcote, almost fretfully;
and then he added, ‘Miss Mountford, I came to Mount on a special
mission. Will you let me tell you what it was? I came to offer your
father my co-operation in breaking the entail.’
‘Breaking the entail!’ the idea was so surprising that all who heard it
received it with the same exclamation. As for Anne, she did more: she
cast one rapid involuntary glance around her upon the house with all its
lights, the familiar garden, the waving clouds of trees. In her heart
she felt as if a sharp arrow of possible delight, despair, she knew not
which, struck her keenly to the core. It was only for a moment. Then she
drew a long breath and said, ‘You bewilder me altogether; break the
entail--why should you? I cannot comprehend it. Pardon me, it is as if
the Prince of Wales said he would not have the crown. Mount is England
to us Mountfords. I cannot understand what you mean.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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