Courtship -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
'I know there are girls who can fall in love,' is the answer. 'I knew
one once who told me her idea of bliss was love in a cottage, but that
wouldn't suit me at all. I shouldn't know how to get on without heaps of
things that I could not have, if I married a poor man.' Lippa's fingers
are doing great damage to the ribbons which are attached to her gown,
and till they are reduced to a crumpled mess, she continues to take the
beauty out of them, by folding and refolding them. Mabel is only half
convinced and says no more to Philippa, but a long letter is written to
dear George, begging him to come to them soon, and he enjoying himself
vastly shooting and fishing does not come, and time passes on.
Philippa tries to forget Jimmy, and wonders how he is getting on, she
has yet to learn that,--
'Man's love is a thing apart,
'Tis woman's whole existence.'
Love is forgotten and put on one side, for racing, shooting, hunting,
etc., and it is well that it is so, for a love-lorn youth is a decided
bore.
But James Dalrymple of the Guards has been more deeply wounded than he
owns to himself, his love for Miss Seaton is more than a passing fancy,
that causing pain for a short time, will be laughed over in about a
year. Love Lippa, he does hopelessly, madly, and so he will till the end
of the chapter.
Real true love is not a thing to be taken up and cast aside at will,
like a broken toy; it may grow upon us or come suddenly, why we cannot
tell, and although we hardly acknowledge to ourselves that Cupid, who
has wrought so much harm as well as good in the world, has paid us a
visit, yet we never feel quite the same again; maybe we are happier than
we have ever been before, or else, and alas it happens to very many,
that Eros' darts have only made a wound which might almost have been
caused by a poisoned arrow; ah me! the healing takes a weary long time
or maybe can never heal. Truly love is a dangerous thing.
CHAPTER IX
'I say, Mab, there's such a delightful monkey outside, do lend me
sixpence?'
Mrs Seaton looks up from a telegram she is reading and says to Philippa,
'Never mind the monkey, I've just had this from George and--'
'Is he ill?' inquires Lippa.
'No, but--'
'Do give me the sixpence then, I will be back in a moment again.'
Mabel produces the coin, and Philippa having delivered it hurries back.
'He was so pleased,' she says, 'the dear little--' but her
sister-in-law's face causes her to stop and inquire hastily, 'What has
happened, do tell me?' her thoughts recurring at once to Jimmy
Dalrymple.
'Well, dear,' says Mabel, 'George has telegraphed to me the death of--'
'Who?' asks Philippa, clutching at a chair near her.
'No one you ever knew,' replies Mabel, guessing the question that she
would ask.
'Ah!' and Lippa breathes a sigh of relief, 'is it a friend of George's
or Paul's?' 'wife' she is going to say but hesitates.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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