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
When she could speak to Mrs. Dove alone, she earnestly besought that old
friend to look after the child, her health, her dress, and above all to
supply here lack of experience and give her kind counsel and advice.
“I will indeed, ma’am, as though she were my own,” promised Mrs. Dove.
“O nurse, I give my sweet jewel to your care; you know what a great
house in London is better than I do. You will warn her of any danger.”
“I will do my endeavour, ma’am. We servants see and hear much, and if
any harm should come nigh the sweet young miss, I’ll do my best for
her.”
“Thank you, nurse, I shall never, never see her more in her free artless
childishness,” said Betty, sobbing as if her heart would break; “but oh,
nurse, I can bear the thought better since I have known that you would
be near her.”
And at night, when her darling nestled for the last time in her arms,
the elder sister whispered her warnings. Her knowledge of the great
world was limited, but she believed it to be a very wicked place, and
she profoundly distrusted her brilliant kinswoman; yet her warnings took
no shape more definite than--“My dearest sister will never forget her
prayers nor her Bible.” There was a soft response and fresh embrace at
each pause. “Nor play cards of a Sunday, nor ever play high. And my Aura
must be deaf to rakish young beaux and their compliments. They never
mean well by poor pretty maids. If you believe them, they will only
mock, flout, and jeer you in the end. And if the young baronet should
seek converse with you, promise me, oh, promise me, Aurelia, to grant
him no favour, no, not so much as to hand him a flower, or stand
chatting with him unknown to his mother. Promise me again, child, for
naught save evil can come of any trifling between you. And, Aurelia, go
to Nurse Dove in all your difficulties. She can advise you where your
poor sister cannot. It will ease my heart if I know that my child will
attend to her. You will not let yourself be puffed up with flattery,
nor be offended if she be open and round with you. Think that your poor
sister Betty speaks in her. Pray our old prayers, go to church, and
read your Psalms and Lessons daily, and oh! never, never cheat your
conscience. O may God, in His mercy, keep my darling!”
So Aurelia cried herself to sleep, while Betty lay awake till the early
hour in the morning when all had to be prepared for the start. There was
to be a ride of an hour and a half before breakfast so as to give the
horses a rest. It was a terrible separation, in many respects more
complete than if Aurelia had been going, in these days, to America;
for communication by letter was almost as slow, and infinitely more
expensive.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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