Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
"I was listening to Bettie, and she on a sudden remarked of thy
indisposition. I straightway came to note thy ailing. I have talked
not with thee in private since thy arrival, and there is much news.
Hast seen her, Constance, to talk with her?"
"Whom meanest thou? There are many 'hers' in the house!"
"The beauty that flew to me over seas, of course; whom else could I
mean?"
"Oh! oh! to be sure; the maid from Quebec. Aye, I talked with her
some. Thou sayest she is Sir John Penwick's daughter?"
"Aye, and she's a glorious beauty, eh, Constance?"
"But how camest thou by her?"
Cedric reached to that nearest his heart and drew forth Sir John's
letter and gave it opened into Constance's hand. She read it with
blazing eyes and great eagerness; for 'twas a bundle of weapons she
was examining and would take therefrom her choice. She flashed forth
queries as to the probability of this or that with a semblance of
interest that disarmed Cedric and made him wonder if this woman
loved to such an extent, she could fling aside her own interests
and submerge all jealousy, all self-love into the purest of all
sacrifices, abnegation?
"What! no estates? That looks ill, for at one time Sir John was
affluent, for Aunt Hettie has told me of him many a time."
"But he lost it all, as I've heard ofttime from father; he has spoken
not infrequent of Sir John's high living; he had great demesne, a
great heart and great temper; and 'tis the last named that has fallen
clear and uncumbered to his daughter; and the heart will be found by
careful probing, no doubt; and the demesne she will have when she
condescends to take me as spouse."
"Thou, thou espouse her?" and Constance feigned surprise, as if 'twere
a new thing to her, when in reality she had suffered agony from its
repetition.
"Aye, and why not, pray? Am I not of ripe years and know my mind?"
"And why so?--because thou shouldst wed one of high degree and fortune
and worldly wisdom."
"Nay, thou art wrong. 'Tis enough that she is of noble blood from
father and mother; and I have fortune for us both; and worldly
wisdom--bah! Constance, dost thou expect her to know all the intrigues
of court, when she is but lightly past fifteen?"
"Fifteen?--Now by heaven, Cedric, thou wouldst not lie to me?"
"Nay, Con, I would not--I have no object in this case, 'tis a truth."
"Fifteen, and indeed she is well-formed for such youth!"
"And what a beautiful and innocent face she has, too?"
"Beauteous, admitted; but innocent of what?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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