Sandra Belloni (originally Emilia in England) — CompleteMeredith, George
General
Sandra Belloni (originally Emilia in England) — Complete
Meredith, George
English fiction -- 19th century
“I have always said,” observed Cornelia, “that she labours under a
disease.” What is more, she had always told Mrs. Lupin as much, and her
sisters had echoed her. Three to one in such a case is a severe trial to
the reason of solitary one. And Mrs. Lupin's case was peculiar, inasmuch
as the more she yielded to Chump-temptation and eased her heart of
its load of laughter, the more her heart cried out against her and
subscribed to the scorn of her nieces. Mrs. Chump acted a demon's part;
she thirsted for Mrs. Lupin that she might worry her. Hitherto she had
not known that anything peculiar lodged in her tongue, and with no other
person did she think of using it to produce a desired effect; but now
the scenes in Brookfield became hideous to the ladies, and not wanting
in their trials to the facial muscles of the gentlemen. A significant
sign of what the ladies were enduring was, that they ceased to speak of
it in their consultations. It is a blank period in the career of young
creatures when a fretting wretchedness forces them out of their dreams
to action; and it is then that they will do things that, seen from
the outside (i.e. in the conduct of others), they would hold to be
monstrous, all but impossible. Or how could Cornelia persuade herself,
as she certainly persuaded Sir Twickenham and the world about her, that
she had a contemplative pleasure in his society? Arabella drew nearer to
Edward Buxley, whom she had not treated well, and who, as she might have
guessed, had turned his thoughts toward Adela; though clearly without
encouragement. Adela indeed said openly to her sisters, with a Gallic
ejaculation, “Edward follows me, do you know; and he has adopted a sort
of Sicilian-vespers look whenever he meets me with Captain Gambier. I
could forgive him if he would draw out a dagger and be quite theatrical;
but, behold, we meet, and my bourgeois grunts and stammers, and seems to
beg us to believe that he means nothing whatever by his behaviour. Can
you convey to his City-intelligence that he is just a trifle ill-bred?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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