Oliver Constable, miller and baker, Vol. 3 (of 3)Tytler, Sarah
Philosophy
Oliver Constable, miller and baker, Vol. 3 (of 3)
Tytler, Sarah
England -- Social conditions -- 19th century -- Fiction
‘That will be awfully good of you. I’ll be as proud as a peacock;
no’—with a sudden flush—‘not that, but very much obliged and thankful
to show his friends that all the people I ever knew have not turned
their backs upon me.’ She finished with bitterness, still her voice
and face betrayed some shame and regret. ‘Would you mind walking and
talking with me a bit, Mr. Oliver?’ she asked almost gently. ‘We’ll
turn down into Jervis’s yard, where there is nobody working at this
hour. I should like to speak out to you this once. It is not late, and
though it were, there’s nobody to hinder me from stopping out till
after ten, now. But, oh! Mr. Oliver’—breaking out passionately—‘it
was mother herself put the finishing touch to my folly. I had been
wild and flown in her face, and disobeyed her, but I was not bad,
when she turned me from my father’s door, and locked it in my face.
She has herself to thank for what came of it,—no, no, I don’t mean
that’—cried ’Mily, calling herself back with an accent of terror in
her despair—‘What is it the Bible says about them as curses father and
mother? And it is only them as honours father and mother that lives
long; so that any way I’m booked to die young like Jack Dadd and Fan—I
beg your pardon, Mr. Oliver—Mrs. Harry Stanhope. Well, I’ve got an
inkling there are worse fates going. But it was heartless and ill-done
of me,’ confessed poor ’Mily, with something like real contrition in
the tears which welled up into her round eyes,—‘to come forward and
look in your face, and at the band round your hat, and begin with my
idle nonsense—only it’s such sore nonsense now-a-days—you can’t guess,
Mr. Oliver. Did you ever think it would come to this—that my banns
should be put up here, in Friarton, and my marriage day next week, yet
neither mother, nor ’Liza, nor any of them, should care to come near
me? That they should not be able to tell what I’m to wear, or seek to
bid me good-bye before I go?’
‘It will be better when you are gone,’ said Oliver. ‘Forgiveness and
forgetfulness will come in time. You will try to do your best, ’Mily,
God helping you, in the future, and when you come back——’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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