Recollections of a chaperonSullivan, Arabella Jane
General
Recollections of a chaperon
Sullivan, Arabella Jane
English fiction -- 19th century
“Any other day will do just as well for your gardening. Now do, dear
Ellen, let us take a good long walk, it will refresh us after the ball.
I never knew you unwilling to oblige anybody before. Besides, I must
go to the shop to buy some things for George, before he returns to
school; and I want you to help me. It is so difficult to give poor papa
satisfaction. I am sure I do my very best, but I do get so wearied,
and so worried at home, what with the housekeeping, and the lessons,
and having to keep the boys’ things in order, and never being able to
do any thing right, that I want a little relaxation.”
Ellen yielded, for she often pitied Caroline, who was decidedly not
made for the lot which had befallen her. She put on her best bonnet,
and the three sisters sallied forth. From the shop they walked along
the river-side, under the shade of some spreading elms, which made this
terrace the favourite resort of the inhabitants of ——. They had not
long been there before Mr. Cresford joined them.
He walked by Ellen’s side, and any acute observer might have perceived,
by the obsequious air, the flushed cheek, and the agitation of his
whole demeanour, that his was not a common-place flirtation to kill
an idle morning, but that his feelings were deeply interested. Ellen
was shy and reserved, but her reserve only increased the ardour of the
passion which had so suddenly been awakened in his breast.
The next day Ellen could not be persuaded to extend their walk beyond
their own garden.
“When Mr. Cresford is gone away, Caroline, we will walk wherever you
please, but I do not like appearing to seek him.”
“Why do you dislike him? He is evidently smitten with you.”
“I do not dislike him particularly, but I think I am more comfortable
and happy gardening with Will Pollard; and if I liked to meet him ever
so much, I had rather die than appear to seek him, or any body else.”
“So would I, Ellen!” cried little Matilda; “when I grow up, I will be
so proud! it shall never be said that I care for anybody.”
“I am sure I should be sorry to do any thing forward,” answered
Caroline, “only one must take the air sometimes. Perhaps, however, you
are both right, and I am sure I would not have any girl care for any
man, till she is quite sure of him, and it is very difficult to know
when they are in earnest.”
CHAPTER II.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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