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
“My dear sir!” exclaimed Mr. Fairfax, rather excitedly. “I have
something of the utmost importance to say to you. Will you take a turn
with me?”
“My dear sir!” repeated the old gentleman, smiling, “breakfast is ready!
Let’s go on to the house!”
“But my _dear_ sir! my business is urgent!”
“My _very_ dear sir! the coffee is getting cold!” said the old man,
laughing at Frank’s excitement.
“Mr. Clifton,” said the young man, gravely and sadly, “immediately after
breakfast I must leave here. This, then, is the only opportunity I have
or shall have of communicating to you what is on my heart to say—and it
really _is_ on my _heart_.”
“Say on then, my dear boy! say on!” exclaimed the benevolent old
gentleman. But Frank, now that he had got leave to speak, was struck
dumb. He thought it was perfectly easy and simple to ask for Zuleime,
but now the request, like Macbeth’s amen, stuck in his throat. “Come,”
said the old gentleman, running his fat arm through Frank’s slender one,
“give me the support of your arm, for I am not so young and active as
you are, and let us take a little walk up the path towards Hardbargain.
Perhaps we may meet Archer, and bring him back with us to breakfast. He
is not at the _house_, is he?”
“No, sir,” said Frank, glad to recover the use of his tongue.
“We expect him here to breakfast. We shall probably meet him. Come!
Well, now! what is it?” he asked, as they turned their backs on the
house.
Frank had plucked up his courage, and now spoke to the purpose.
“Mr. Clifton, as I am going away immediately after breakfast, and as I
am to be absent for an indefinite length of time, I wish before I leave
to tell you that which lies upon my heart—” here he paused a little time
to collect his thoughts and fine words, while the old gentleman attended
with an encouraging expression of countenance. Frank resumed—“Mr.
Clifton, I love your daughter Zuleime. And I have come to beg your
sanction to our engagement!” As the old man only said, “Whew-w-w-w!”
Frank continued—“You know my rank in the army, and my prospect of
promotion. You are acquainted with my family, and are aware of their
interest and influence in the country. Allow me farther to add, that my
own private fortune amounts to fifty thousand dollars. And I will settle
thirty thousand on my bride. Besides which—”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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