The foster-sisters : $b A story in the days of Wesley and WhitfieldGuernsey, Lucy Ellen
History
The foster-sisters : $b A story in the days of Wesley and Whitfield
Guernsey, Lucy Ellen
Evangelical Revival -- England -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Meantime she filled the house with guests—mostly gentlemen—till there
was not a spare corner, except the ghost rooms and the apartments known
as the King's chamber. I think that she would have laid violent hands
on these, only that when she spoke of having them put in order, the
servants, with Wilson at their head, declared they would leave the
house at once, if the door was so much as opened. I knew there was no
particular danger of such a catastrophe, from the simple fact that Mrs.
Deborah had carried off with her the keys to that part of the house.
There was no way of entering the ghostly rooms, for even the door which
opened from our room had been fastened on the other side. So the guests
were accommodated wherever a place could be found for them, and the
shut up rooms remained shut up still.
There were a great many people coming and going, and, as I could not
but observe, arriving very frequently in the night. There was much
whispering in corners, and reading and writing of letters, and white
flowers and ribbons were paraded upon all occasions. Only Amabel would
wear none but red flowers and ribbons, though they were not especially
becoming to her, and when one day my lord presented her with a basket
of beautiful exotics which he had caused to be sent from his own
famous hot-houses, she remarked carelessly that she did not like white
flowers, and gave them to Chatty Dugdale, who appeared in them at
dinner to my lord's evident mortification.
"So you would not honor my poor flowers!" I heard him say to her
afterwards.
"I told you I did not like white flowers!" she answered. "I beg you
will put yourself to no more trouble on my account."
His lordship's eyes blazed with anger, but he only bowed and turned
away.
The next day news arrived which made every one open their eyes. The
Pretender, whose landing in Moidart in July with but seven men at his
back had been rumored but hardly believed, had put himself at the head
of the Highland clans, and eluding the vigilance and skill of General
Cope (no great feat if all tales were true), had actually entered
Edinburgh in triumph, and was holding his court there.
There was no bound to the exultation at the Hall when this news
arrived. Sir Julius ordered a distribution of beef and ale to all the
tenants, and a grand banquet was prepared at the Hall to which all
the neighboring gentry were invited. But I noticed that very few of
them came, and of the families who accepted the invitation, only the
gentlemen were present.
In fact, scarcely any ladies of what might be called the county
families had visited Lady Leighton at all. The table was not half
filled. Sir Julius' brow darkened ominously, as he looked on the vacant
seats, and when the toast was proposed of "health to the rightful king
and confusion to usurpers," it was not received with any great degree
of enthusiasm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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