Piccadilly: A Fragment of Contemporary BiographyOliphant, Laurence
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Piccadilly: A Fragment of Contemporary Biography
Oliphant, Laurence
Piccadilly (London, England) -- Fiction
"Good-bye, Lady Broadhem," I said, "you will not see me again. I am
going to America in three days, and must go to Flityville to-morrow; but
I never thought I could have bid you all farewell and felt so happy at
the prospect of parting;" and I threw one yearning glance on Ursula in
spite of myself. "Your happiness is secured, I do most firmly believe,"
I said to her; "and as for you," and I laid my hand on Broadhem's
shoulder, "remember the experiment I proposed to you the other night,
and try it;" and I was moving off when Ursula seized my hand, and almost
dragged me back to her mother's side. She lifted up her eyes like one
inspired, and the radiancy of her expression seemed to dazzle and blind
me. Then she knelt down, and I knelt by her side, while her mother lay
before us, her whole frame heaving with convulsive sobs, and Broadhem
stood by wondering and awestruck. I can't repeat that prayer here, but
there was a power in those gentle accents which stilled the stormy
elements, as the waves of the sea were once stilled before; and when the
thrilling voice ceased there was a great calm, and we knew that a change
had been affected in that place. Then the floodgates were opened which
had been to that moment barred, and Lady Ursula threw herself on her
mother's bosom, and wept tears of gratitude, and I stole silently away
to the drawing-room, and led Grandon by the hand, without uttering a
word, to that room into which a new atmosphere had descended, and a new
breath had called into existence a new nature. He started back on the
threshold at the picture before him. Lady Broadhem, apparently scarcely
conscious, clasped in the arms of her weeping daughter; and
Broadhem--poor Broadhem--bewildered at the sight of the strong woman he
had dreaded and worshipped thus suddenly breaking down, was sitting on a
footstool at his mother's side, holding one of her hands, helplessly.
"Good God! Frank," said Grandon, in a whisper, for neither Lady Broadhem
nor her daughter saw us, "what have you been doing?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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