Lord Ormont and His Aminta — CompleteMeredith, George
General
Lord Ormont and His Aminta — Complete
Meredith, George
English fiction -- 19th century
'He 's between two fires. A man gets fretted. But I shan't move a step.
I dare say she won't. Especially with that Morsfield out of the way. You
do mean you think her a beauty. Well, then, there'll soon be a successor
to Morsfield. Beauties will have their weapons, and they can hit on
plenty; and it 's nothing to me, as long as I save my brother from their
arts.'
Weyburn felt he had done his penance in return for kindness. He bowed
and rose, Lady Charlotte stretched out her hand.
'We shall be sending you a pupil some day,' she said, and smiled.
'Forward your address as soon as you 're settled.' Her face gave a
glimpse of its youth in a cordial farewell smile.
Lord Ormont had no capacity to do the like, although they were strictly
brother and sister in appearance. The smallest difference in character
rendered her complex and kept him simple. She had a thirsting mind.
Weyburn fancied that a close intimacy of a few months would have enabled
him to lift her out of her smirching and depraving mean jealousies. He
speculated, as he trod the street, on little plots and surprises, which
would bring Lady Charlotte and Lady Ormont into presence, and end by
making friends of them. Supposing that could be done, Lady Ormont might
be righted by the intervention of Lady Charlotte after all.
Weyburn sent his dream flying with as dreamy an after-thought: 'Funny
it will be then for Lady Charlotte to revert to the stuff she has been
droning in my ear half an hour ago!--Look well behind, and we see spots
where we buzzed, lowed, bit and tore; and not until we have cast that
look and seen the brute are we human creatures.'
A crumb of reflection such as this could brace him, adding its modest
maravedi to his prized storehouse of gain, fortifying with assurances of
his having a concrete basis for his business in life. His great youthful
ambition had descended to it, but had sunk to climb on a firmer footing.
Arthur Abner had his next adieu. They talked of Lady Ormont, as to whose
position of rightful Countess of Ormont Mr. Abner had no doubt. He said
of Lady Charlotte: 'She has a clear head; but she loves her “brother
Rowsley” excessively; and any excess pushes to craziness.'
He spoke to Weyburn of his prospects in the usually, perhaps
necessarily, cheerless tone of men who recognize by contrast the one
mouse's nibbling at a mountain of evil. 'To harmonize the nationalities,
my dear boy! teach Christians to look fraternally on Jews! David was a
harper, but the setting of him down to roll off a fugue on one of
your cathedral organs would not impose a heavier task than you are
undertaking. You have my best wishes, whatever aid I can supply. But we
're nearer to King John's time than to your ideal, as far as the Jews
go.'
'Not in England.'
'Less in England,' Abner shrugged.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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