Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 -- Homes and haunts -- England -- Stratford-upon-Avon -- Fiction
"Do you remember us?" the gentleman asked and smiled--with the lady beside
him smiling too; speaking so much less as an earnest pilgrim or as a
tiresome tourist than as an old acquaintance. It was history repeating
itself as Gedge had somehow never expected, with almost everything the same
except that the evening was now a mild April-end, except that the visitors
had put off mourning and showed all their bravery--besides showing, as he
doubtless did himself, though so differently, for a little older; except,
above all, that--oh seeing them again suddenly affected him not a bit as
the thing he'd have supposed it. "We're in England again and we were near;
I've a brother at Oxford with whom we've been spending a day, so that we
thought we'd come over." This the young man pleasantly said while our
friend took in the queer fact that he must himself seem to them rather
coldly to gape. They had come in the same way at the quiet close; another
August had passed, and this was the second spring; the Birthplace, given
the hour, was about to suspend operations till the morrow; the last
lingerer had gone and the fancy of the visitors was once more for a look
round by themselves. This represented surely no greater presumption than
the terms on which they had last parted with him seemed to warrant; so that
if he did inconsequently stare it was just in fact because he was so
supremely far from having forgotten them. But the sight of the pair luckily
had a double effect, and the first precipitated the second--the second
being really his sudden vision that everything perhaps depended for him on
his recognising no complication. He must go straight on, since it was what
had for more than a year now so handsomely answered; he must brazen it out
consistently, since that only was what his dignity was at last reduced to.
He mustn't be afraid in one way any more than he had been in another;
besides which it came over him to the point of his flushing for it that
their visit, in its essence, must have been for himself. It was good
society again, and _they_ were the same. It wasn't for him therefore to
behave as if he couldn't meet them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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