Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Juvenile fiction
"Fatima's wit jumped more quickly than mine had done. It was she who
added--
"'Then he is Ivan.'
* * * * *
"My hopes in reference to Mr. Smith were disappointed. I had not seen
the last of him. My mother was at this time from home, and I was
housekeeper in her absence. It was on the morning following the
Bellevue tea-party that my father said to me--
"'Mr. Smith is coming up to refer to a book of mine to-day, my dear;
and I asked him to stay to dinner. I suppose it will be convenient?'
"I said, 'Certainly, sir.'
"I could plead no domestic inconvenience; but I thought that Mr.
Smith might have gone quietly back to London by the early coach, and
spared me the agitation which the prospect of seeing him again
undoubtedly excited. He came, however. It was the first visit, but by
no means the last; and he lingered in the town, greatly to my father's
satisfaction (who had taken a strong fancy for him), but not,
apparently, to that of the Misses Brooke.
"As I afterwards found the clue to the somewhat strange conduct of our
old friends at this time, I may as well briefly state how it was.
"When the merchant first announced to them his proposed business visit
to the town, and his intention of calling on them, the good ladies (in
their affection for me, and having a high opinion of him) planned a
kindly little romance of which he and I were to be the hero and
heroine, and which was to end in our happy marriage. With this view
they arranged for our meeting at the tea-party, and avoided all
mention of each to the other, that we might meet in the (so to speak)
incidental way characteristic of real love stories. With that
suspiciousness of people in general, and of young people in
particular, which haunted Miss Martha, she attributed my ready
acceptance of the invitation to my having heard of Mr. Smith's
arrival, and to the unusual attraction of an eligible gentleman at the
tea-party. Little did she guess the benevolent plans which on my part
I had formed for her, and which the merchant's youthful appearance had
dashed to the ground.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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