Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century CostumeYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
English fiction -- 19th century
Aurelia had felt her request so audacious that she subsided easily;
and modestly suggested a tea-service. She thought of porcelain, but Mr.
Belamour’s views were of silver, and it ended in the lady giving the
cups and saucers, and the gentleman the urn and the tea and coffee
pots and other plate; but it was a drawback to the pleasure of this
munificence that the execution of the order had to be entrusted to Mr.
Hargrave. The daring hope Aurelia had entertained of shopping for a day,
with Mrs. Aylward as an escort, and choosing the last fashions to send
to her sisters was quashed by the grave reply that it was better not for
the present. What was the meaning of all this mystery, and when was it
to end? She felt that it would be ungrateful to murmur, for Mr. Belamour
evidently was full of sorrow whenever he was obliged to disappoint her,
and much was done for her pleasure. A charming little saddle-horse, two
riding-habits, with a groom, and a horse for him, were sent down from
London for her benefit; gifts showered upon her; and whenever she found
her husband in one of those perplexing accesses of tenderness she was
sure to carry away some wonderful present, a beautiful jewelled watch,
an _etui_ case, a fan, a scent-bottle, or patch-box with a charming
enamel of a butterfly. The little girls were always looking for
something pretty that she would show them in the morning, and thought
it must be a fine thing to have a husband who gave such charming things.
Those caressing evenings, however, always frightened Aurelia, and sent
her away vaguely uneasy, often to lie awake full of a vague yearning
and alarm; and several days of restlessness would pass before she could
return to her ordinary enjoyment of her days with the children and her
evenings with Mr. Belamour. Yet when there was any long intermission
of those fits of tender affection, she missed them sorely, and began to
fear she had given offence, especially as this strangely capricious man
seemed sometimes to repel those modest, timid advances which at other
times would fill him with ill-suppressed transport. Then came longings
to see and satisfy herself as to what was indeed the aspect of him whom
she was learning to love.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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