Mary Seaham: A Novel. Volume 2 of 3Grey, Mrs. (Elizabeth Caroline)
General
Mary Seaham: A Novel. Volume 2 of 3
Grey, Mrs. (Elizabeth Caroline)
Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
It was therefore in consequence of this kindly intentioned resolve, that
one day when walking alone with Eugene through the park home from
church, he--talking in a more confidential tone than was his usual wont,
on matters connected with his family affairs, and affecting their future
prospects--she placed her hand on his, and with the gentlest, tenderest
sympathy in her tone and manner, murmured, "And where, Eugene, is your
poor brother?" But she repented ere the words had passed her lips; for
Eugene perceptibly started, and paused abruptly for a single moment,
turning a wild, quick glance upon her, whilst though he answered but by
the single word "Abroad!" it was enough to show that his voice was thick
and husky as he thus replied. In a moment, however, he seemed to recover
himself from the very great shock her abrupt, and as she feared,
ill-judged question had occasioned him, and passing his hand across his
brow, quickly pursued his way.
Grieved at what she had done, Mary walked on in silence; till Eugene, as
if he feared she must have been impressed by the signs of emotion into
which he had been surprised, suddenly began to laugh, although the laugh
had in it a tone constrained and unnatural.
"I fear, Mary, I frightened you just now," he said, "but the fact is,
you rather frightened me by your sudden question. It sounded almost as
solemn and startling as the same inquiry must have done to Cain
after--after you know what wicked deed."
"Indeed, dear Eugene?" Mary answered with concern, yet inwardly
surprised at the careless tone and manner her lover had now assumed with
reference to that distressing subject.
"I am sorry, very sorry, I pained you by my abruptness, but the sad
subject was so much in my thoughts at the moment, and I had so long
wished to ask you something about your poor brother, that--"
"Oh yes--of course--certainly, my dearest Mary, I quite understand, and
shall be very glad to give you some information concerning the poor
fellow. Just at the first start you must suppose it rather painful to
bring myself to think or speak upon, as you justly observe, so very sad
a subject. My poor brother is, as I said before, abroad, travelling I
believe--of course under guardianship. He was," and his voice faltered
as if from strong emotion, "he was in confinement for a very short time,
but that, thank God! was found unnecessary; and now, as I told you, he
is abroad. I cannot say exactly where just now."
And having hurriedly uttered these particulars, the delivery of which
seemed to cost him much, he passed his handkerchief over his brow, on
which, even in this clear fresh November atmosphere, there had been
wrung forth some burning drops--and hastened on his pale and pitying
companion, who gently pressed his arm in silent token of her love and
sympathy.
"Mary," he murmured in a low agitated tone, fervently returning that
mute acknowledgment, "Mary, you will never forsake me?"
"Forsake you, Eugene! why should I forsake you?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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