Miss Cheyne of Essilmont, Volume 1 (of 3) — John Shaqi
Miss Cheyne of Essilmont, Volume 1 (of 3)Grant, James
General
Miss Cheyne of Essilmont, Volume 1 (of 3)
Grant, James
Fiction
And now, as dinner proceeded, Alison, surprised by the peevish pride
of her father, after his warnings in the carriage--notwithstanding
the fears with which these warnings had inspired her--with all a
woman's tact, exerted herself to turn the conversation to other
subjects, and addressed herself so much to her old host that he
gathered hope and courage, and his face beamed with smiles; though
his supposed love for Alison was not much more than a strong fancy
crossed, which enhanced her value and gave a piquancy to his pursuit
of her--a fancy that ere long was to be curiously combined with
irritation and revenge.
Over the sideboard, which was loaded with massive plate, hung a great
portrait of Sir Timothy Titcomb, the City Knight and first peer, in
all his bravery of robe and chain, and aldermanic obeseness of habit;
and Alison, as she looked at it, thought of some of the stately
portraits at Chilcote of the Cheynes of other days, and of the manly
beauty of the two Cavalier brothers who fell in battle for the
king--pale, proud, and scornful, with their lovelocks and plumed
beavers, and the moment dessert was over, she stole away to the
solitude of the drawing-room.
She had felt rather lonely during the protracted meal. There was no
other lady present. 'Why?' she asked herself; did not ladies affect
the society of the wealthy and titled bachelor? It almost seemed so.
During the meal and dessert, Alison, though her sweet face wore
forced smiles, had a bitter and humiliating sense of how her father,
when his peevishness subsided under the influence of good wines,
changed in manner, and, with all his inborn and inordinate pride of
race and utter contempt for _parvenus_ and _nouveaux riches_, seemed
to make himself subservient to Lord Cadbury, assenting in the end to
his views on everything.
She seated herself at the piano, but did not play, lest, though she
had begun a melody of Schumann's, the 'Nachtstück,' Lord Cadbury
might deem the sound a hint that she wished him by her side, and,
giving way to thought, she sank into reverie.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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