Kenelm Chillingly — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
Kenelm Chillingly — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
Kenelm and the vicar walked side by side, very sociably, across the
bridge and on the side of the rivulet on which stood Mrs. Cameron’s
cottage. As they skirted the garden pale at the rear of the cottage,
Kenelm suddenly stopped in the middle of some sentence which had
interested Mr. Emlyn, and as suddenly arrested his steps on the turf
that bordered the lane. A little before him stood an old peasant woman,
with whom Lily, on the opposite side of the garden pale, was conversing.
Mr. Emlyn did not at first see what Kenelm saw; turning round rather
to gaze on his companion, surprised by his abrupt halt and silence. The
girl put a small basket into the old woman’s hand, who then dropped a
low curtsy, and uttered low a “God bless you.” Low though it was, Kenelm
overheard it, and said abstractedly to Mr. Emlyn, “Is there a greater
link between this life and the next than God’s blessing on the young,
breathed from the lips of the old?”
CHAPTER X.
“AND how is your good man, Mrs. Haley?” said the vicar, who had now
reached the spot on which the old woman stood,--with Lily’s fair face
still bended down to her,--while Kenelm slowly followed him.
“Thank you kindly, sir, he is better; out of his bed now. The young lady
has done him a power of good--”
“Hush!” said Lily, colouring. “Make haste home now; you must not keep
him waiting for his dinner.”
The old woman again curtsied, and went off at a brisk pace.
“Do you know, Mr. Chillingly,” said Mr. Emlyn, “that Miss Mordaunt is
the best doctor in the place? Though if she goes on making so many cures
she will find the number of her patients rather burdensome.”
“It was only the other day,” said Lily, “that you scolded me for the
best cure I have yet made.”
“I?--Oh! I remember; you led that silly child Madge to believe that
there was a fairy charm in the arrowroot you sent her. Own you deserved
a scolding there.”
“No, I did not. I dressed the arrowroot, and am I not Fairy? I have just
got such a pretty note from Clemmy, Mr. Emlyn, asking me to come up this
evening and see her new magic lantern. Will you tell her to expect me?
And, mind, no scolding.”
“And all magic?” said Mr. Emlyn; “be it so.”
Lily and Kenelm had not hitherto exchanged a word. She had replied with
a grave inclination of her head to his silent bow. But now she turned to
him shyly and said, “I suppose you have been fishing all the morning?”
“No; the fishes hereabout are under the protection of a Fairy,--whom I
dare not displease.”
Lily’s face brightened, and she extended her hand to him over the
palings. “Good-day; I hear aunty’s voice: those dreadful French verbs!”
She disappeared among the shrubs, amid which they heard the thrill of
her fresh young voice singing to herself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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