The curse of Clifton : $b or, the widowed brideSouthworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
General
The curse of Clifton : $b or, the widowed bride
Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
American fiction -- 19th century; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
He was a large, old gentleman, clothed in a fresh, fragrant suit of pale
blue linen, with his hair as white as cotton, his fresh, rosy
complexion, fine teeth, and clear, kind, blue eyes, making a most
refreshing picture of simplicity, cheerfulness, and cleanliness of soul
and body in old age. He was of a sanguine temperament, and under great
provocation, could get into a passion, too. And what old father of a
family, with two grown daughters, and a young wife, all under eighteen
years of age, and all beauties, has _not_ enough combustible material to
burn the house down, or set his own temper on fire?—yet such was the
kindness of his heart, that even when in violent anger, stamping up and
down the floor, grasping desperately at his own white temple locks with
both hands, and vociferating in stentorian tones—it was all, as Frank
afterwards said, _shooting with blank cartridges_—he never said a word,
or did a thing, to wound a single soul.
“I trust the ladies are all well, sir,” said Captain Clifton, as he
followed his uncle.
“Yes—yes—that is to say, _Carry_ is well, but not well _pleased_. She
expected you yesterday—didn’t consider the storm any excuse for your
absence. Ah! you dog—you sad dog—at your age would _I_ have kept a lady
waiting? Nay, would I do it _now_? But come, shall I present you to the
ladies now, or do you prefer first the refreshment of the bath and a
change of dress? Your own and your friend’s baggage arrived this morning
by the wagon, and has been conveyed to your rooms.”
“Oh, a change of dress, by all means!” suggested Frank.
“Dandy—DANDY!” exclaimed the old gentleman, raising his strong voice,
till the servant appeared, “show Mr. Fairfax to General Washington’s
room.”
General Washington had slept one night at Clifton, and from that time to
this, the room he occupied has been “General Washington’s room.”
The servant conducted Mr. Fairfax up stairs. And then the old gentleman,
turning to his nephew, took his hands again, and said—
“My dear boy, once more I must say, I’m—so—_glad_—to—see you! _You_ are
at home, you know. So go and find your room, and ring and give your
orders, _my son_, for you are so. And I will go and let the ladies know
that you have come, though I dare say they know it already.”
And shaking his hands, he let them go and turned slowly away.
Half an hour sufficed the young gentlemen to make themselves
presentable. At the end of which time they descended the stairs, and
were met in the hall by old Mr. Clifton, who ushered them into the
drawing-room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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