Nuttie's FatherYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
Nuttie's Father
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
'My dear sister fell into a decline, and died while the three children
were still babies. Poor things, I believe they had a sad time till
their father married a Miss Condamine, who has been an excellent
stepmother to them. I have been to see them, but Mark was not then at
home, so he has come to me at Monks Horton. When will he find you at
home? Or may I bring him in at once. He was to meet me at
Micklethwayte.'
'I should like very much to see him,' was the answer. And Miss
Headworth was obliged to say something about her ladyship taking a cup
of tea. Lady Kirkaldy, knowing that Mark was on the watch, set off in
search of him, and found him, as she expected, pacing the pavement in
front of the church. There was no great distance in which to utter her
explanations and cautions, warning him of her promise that the
intelligence of the husband's being alive was to be withheld for a
fitter time, but he promised dutifully, and his aunt then took him in
with her.
The recognition of her claims was a less stunning shock to Alice
Egremont than to her aunt. Shielded by her illness, as well as by her
simplicity and ignorance, she had never been aware of her aunt's
attempted correspondence with the Egremonts, nor of their deafness to
appeals made on her behalf. Far less had it ever occurred to her that
the validity of her marriage could be denied, and the heinous error of
her elopement seemed to her quite sufficient to account for her having
been so entirely cast off by the family. The idea that as wife or
widow she had any claims on them, or that Ursula might have rights
above those of Mark, had not come into her mind, which, indeed, at the
moment was chiefly occupied by the doubt whether the milk was come in,
and by ordering in the best teacups, presented by the boarders.
Thus she was in the passage when Mark entered, and his exclamation
instantly was 'Oh, Edda, dear old Edda! You aren't a bit altered!' and
he put his head under her hat and kissed her, adding, as she seemed
rather startled, 'You are my aunt, you know; and where's my cousin?
You are Ursula?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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