United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- Social conditions -- Fiction
"He could never wish that. He is so much older and wiser and better
than I am; and looks on me only as a little sister."
"Is superiority in years and wisdom the only obstacle you can
imagine?"
"I have never thought of it at all until you spoke, and it is
painful to me. It seems disrespectful to connect such ideas as yours
with the name of one whom I honour as my brother."
He put his hand under her chin, turning her face to view despite her
struggle to prevent it, and bending his head--he did not kiss her! Oh
no! Erle Palma had never kissed any one since his childhood; but for
one instant his dark cheek was laid close to hers, with a tender
caressing touch, that astonished her as completely as if one of the
bronze statuettes on the console above her head had laughed aloud,
and clapped its metallic hands.
"Henceforth the 'disrespectful idea' shall never be associated with
the name of Mr. Douglass Lindsay, and in the future I warn you, there
shall be none but a purely fraternal niche allowed him; moreover, it
is not requisite that you should speak of him as 'dear Douglass' in
order to assure me of your sisterly regard. What I shall do with my
unfortunate young cousin is not quite so transparent; for Elliott
will not receive his rejection by proxy."
He had withdrawn his arm, and released her hand, and rising she
exclaimed impetuously:
"Tell him that Regina Orme will never permit him to broach that
subject; and tell him, too, that I am a waif, a girl over whose
parentage hangs a shadow dark and chill as a pall. Oh! tell him I
want my mother, and an honourable unsullied name, and until I can
find these I have no room in my mind or heart for a lover!"
As the events of the day, temporarily banished from her thoughts by
the unexpected character of the interview, rushed back with renewed
force and bitterness, the transient colour died out of her face,
leaving it strangely wan and worn in aspect; and Mr. Palma saw now
that purple shadows lay beneath the deep eyes, rendering them more
than ever prophetic in their solemn mournful expression.
"What unusual occurrence has stimulated your interest and curiosity
concerning your parentage?"
"It never slumbers. It is the last thought at night, and the first
when the day dawns. It is a burden that is never lifted, that galls
continually; and sometimes, as to-night, I feel that I cannot endure
it much longer."
"You must be patient, for awhile at least----"
"Yes, I have heard that for ten long years, and I have been both
patient and silent: but the time has come when I can bear no more.
Anything positive, definite, susceptible of proof, no matter how
distressing, would be more tolerable than this suspense, this
maddening conjecture. I will see my mother; I must know the truth, be
it what it may!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account