American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American
The breach produced in England by the invidious action, as it was there
held, of the girl's grandfather, had not failed to widen--all the more
that nothing had been done on the American side to close it. Frigidity
had settled, and hostility had been arrested only by indifference.
Darkness therefore had fortunately supervened, and a cousinship
completely divided. On either side of the impassable gulf, of the
impenetrable curtain, each branch had put forth its leaves--a foliage
wanting, in the American quarter, it was distinct enough to Granger, of
no sign or symptom of climate and environment. The graft in New York had
taken, and Addie was a vivid, an unmistakable flower. At Flickerbridge,
or wherever, on the other hand, strange to say, the parent stem had had
a fortune comparatively meagre. Fortune, it was true, in the vulgarest
sense, had attended neither party. Addie's immediate belongings were as
poor as they were numerous, and he gathered that Miss Wenham's
pretensions to wealth were not so marked as to expose the claim of
kinship to the imputation of motive. To this lady's single identity the
original stock had at all events dwindled, and our young man was
properly warned that he would find her shy and solitary. What was
singular was that in these conditions she should desire, she should
endure, to receive him. But that was all another story, lucid enough
when mastered. He kept Addie's letters, exceptionally copious, in his
lap; he conned them at intervals; he held the threads.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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