English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
As I had expected, after she had once anxiously raised her eyes, and
allowed them to rest upon me, her face was lighted up by an evident
relief, as she discovered that the fulfilment of my aunt's wishes would
not be so distasteful to her, personally, as it might have been.
For myself, I was upon the whole rather disappointed in her; the
portrait had flattered her considerably--the real Chlorine was thinner
and paler than I had been led to anticipate, while there was a settled
melancholy in her manner which I felt would prevent her from being an
exhilarating companion.
And I must say I prefer a touch of archness and animation in womankind,
and, if I had been free to consult my own tastes, should have greatly
preferred to become a member of a more cheerful family. Under the
circumstances, however, I was not entitled to be too particular, and I
put up with it.
From the moment of my arrival I fell easily and naturally into the
position of an honoured guest, who might be expected in time to form
nearer and dearer relations with the family, and certainly I was
afforded every opportunity of doing so.
I made no mistakes, for the diligence with which I had got up McFadden's
antecedents enabled me to give perfectly satisfactory replies to most of
the few allusions or questions that were addressed to me, and I drew
upon my imagination for the rest.
But those days I spent in the baronet's family were far from lively: the
Catafalques went nowhere; they seemed to know nobody; at least no
visitors ever called or dined there while I was with them, and the time
dragged slowly on in a terrible monotony in that dim tomb of a house,
which I was not expected to leave except for very brief periods, for Sir
Paul would grow uneasy if I walked out alone--even to Putney.
There was something, indeed, about the attitude of both the old people
towards myself which I could only consider as extremely puzzling. They
would follow me about with a jealous care, blended with anxious alarm,
and their faces as they looked at me wore an expression of tearful
admiration, touched with something of pity, as for some youthful martyr;
at times, too, they spoke of the gratitude they felt, and professed a
determined hopefulness as to my ultimate success.
Now I was well aware that this is not the ordinary bearing of the
parents of an heiress to a suitor who, however deserving in other
respects, is both obscure and penniless, and the only way in which I
could account for it was by the supposition that there was some latent
defect in Chlorine's temper or constitution, which entitled the man who
won her to commiseration, and which would also explain their evident
anxiety to get her off their hands.
But although anything of this kind would be, of course, a drawback, I
felt that forty or fifty thousand pounds would be a fair set-off--and I
could not expect _everything_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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