Innocent : $b a tale of modern lifeOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
Innocent : $b a tale of modern life
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fiction
Poor child, she knew nothing of self-control, scarcely anything of right
and wrong. She threw out her arms and clung to him, in a simple effort
of nature to grasp at something; and fell into such a passion of sobs
and cries on his bosom as frightened him. But yet what was more natural?
She had just lost her father; she had no one in the world to turn to,
except this new relation who belonged to her. She had been undergoing an
unnatural repression, concealing her feelings in that stupor which grief
so often brings. Frederick thought he understood it all, and it affected
him, though he was glad there was no one else in the room. He put his
arm round her, and even kissed the cheek which was partially visible,
and said all the kind things he could think of. It lasted so long that,
not being very strong himself, he began to totter a little under the
unexpected burden, and would gladly have freed himself and sat down by
her. But Innocent had been carried away by the tide, and could not stop
herself. This was the beginning of their acquaintance. There were no
preliminaries. She had never “given way” in her life before, except on
the occasion we have already referred to--and heaven knows what strange
processes were going on in the girl’s half-developed, much-suppressed
nature, as for the first time she gave her tears and emotion way.
When the hysterical sobbing came to an end, Innocent lifted her head
from his breast, and looked at him, still holding him by the arms. She
looked up suddenly, half beseeching him not to despise her, half daring
him to do so; but there was no scorn in Frederick’s eyes. He was very
sorry for her.
“My poor child!” he said, smoothing the ruffled hair upon her forehead.
Then a sudden flush came to her face, and light to her eyes. She
released him as suddenly as she had clutched him. She sank back gently
into her chair, with a shy, deprecating smile.
“I could not help it,” she said, putting out her hand. She wanted to
retain some hold of him, to be sure that he would not melt quite away
like one of the dreams.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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