The Abbot's Ghost, or Maurice Treherne's Temptation: A Christmas Story — John Shaqi
The Abbot's Ghost, or Maurice Treherne's Temptation: A Christmas StoryAlcott, Louisa May
General
The Abbot's Ghost, or Maurice Treherne's Temptation: A Christmas Story
Alcott, Louisa May
Christmas stories; Forgers -- Fiction; Ghost stories; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Love stories; Young men -- Fiction
So low had the voices fallen that the listener could not have caught the
words had not his ear been strained to the utmost. He did hear all, and
his wasted face flashed with the wrath of a young man, then grew pale
and stern as he turned to watch his wife. She stood apart from the
others talking to Sir Jasper, who looked unusually handsome and debonair
as he fanned her with a devoted air.
Perhaps it is true, thought the old man bitterly. They are well matched,
were lovers once, no doubt, and long to be so again. Poor Edith, I was
very blind. And with his gray head bowed upon his breast the general
stole away, carrying an arrow in his brave old heart.
* * * * *
“Blanche, come here and rest, you will be ill tomorrow; and I promised
Mamma to take care of you.” With which elder-sisterly command Rose led
the girl to an immense old chair, which held them both. “Now listen to
me and follow my advice, for I am wise in my generation, though not yet
gray. They are all busy, so leave them alone and let me show you what is
to be done.”
Rose spoke softly, but with great resolution, and nodded her pretty head
so energetically that the holly berries came rolling over her white
shoulders.
“We are not as rich as we might be, and must establish ourselves as soon
and as well as possible. I intend to be Lady Treherne. You can be the
Honorable Mrs. Annon, if you give your mind to it.”
“My dear child, are you mad?” whispered Blanche.
“Far from it, but you will be if you waste your time on Maurice. He is
poor, and a cripple, though very charming, I admit. He loves Tavie, and
she will marry him, I am sure. She can't endure Frank, but tries to
because my lady commands it. Nothing will come of it, so try your
fascinations and comfort the poor man; sympathy now will foster love
hereafter.”
“Don't talk so here, Rose, someone will hear us,” began her sister, but
the other broke in briskly.
“No fear, a crowd is the best place for secrets. Now remember what I
say, and make your game while the ball is rolling. Other people are
careful not to put their plans into words, but I'm no hypocrite, and say
plainly what I mean. Bear my sage counsel in mind and act wisely. Now
come and begin.”
Treherne was sitting alone by one of the great fires, regarding the gay
scene with serious air. For him there was neither dancing nor games; he
could only roam about catching glimpses of forbidden pleasures,
impossible delights, and youthful hopes forever lost to him. Sad but not
morose was his face, and to Octavia it was a mute reproach which she
could not long resist. Coming up as if to warm herself, she spoke to him
in her usually frank and friendly way, and felt her heart beat fast when
she saw how swift a change her cordial manner wrought in him.
“How pretty your holly is! Do you remember how we used to go and gather
it for festivals like this, when we were happy children?” he asked,
looking up at her with eyes full of tender admiration.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account