England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
He thought about her a great deal for the next day or two; he scolded
himself for being so foolish as to think of her, and then fell to with
fresh vigour, and thought of her more than ever. He tried to depreciate
her: he told himself she was not pretty, and then made indignant answer
that he liked her looks much better than any beauty of them all. He
wished he was not so country-looking, so red-faced, so broad-shouldered;
while she was like a lady, with her smooth, colourless complexion, her
bright dark hair, and her spotless dress. Pretty or not pretty she drew
his footsteps towards her; he could not resist the impulse that made him
wish to see her once more, and find out some fault which should unloose
his heart from her unconscious keeping. But there she was, pure and
maidenly as before. He sat and looked, answering her father at cross-
purposes, while she drew more and more into the shadow of the chimney-
corner out of sight. Then the spirit that possessed him (it was not he
himself, sure, that did so impudent a thing!) made him get up and carry
the candle to a different place, under the pretence of giving her more
light at her sewing, but in reality to be able to see her better. She
could not stand this much longer, but jumped up and said she must put her
little niece to bed; and surely there never was, before or since, so
troublesome a child of two years old, for though Will stayed an hour and
a half longer, she never came down again. He won the father's heart,
though, by his capacity as a listener; for some people are not at all
particular, and, so that they themselves may talk on undisturbed, are not
so unreasonable as to expect attention to what they say.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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