The ghost of Charlotte Cray, and other storiesMarryat, Florence
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The ghost of Charlotte Cray, and other stories
Marryat, Florence
English fiction -- 19th century; Ghost stories, English; Short stories, English
father and mother had died rather suddenly, and within a few months of
each other; our home had been broken up, and at the age of nineteen I
had been sent forth upon the world to earn my own living; and, at the
age of three-and-twenty, I was at the same trade, neither richer nor
poorer than at first, but with all my faith in the constancy and
honour of mankind broken and destroyed; for Bruce Armytage had never
found me out, or, as far as I knew, inquired after me. His family had
permitted me to leave Fairmead and enter on my solitary career without
a word of remonstrance or regret; since which time I had had no
communication with them, though at that period my pride would not have
forbidden my sending an account of my trouble to Bruce, believing that
he cared for me. Correspondence between us during his foreign tour had
been strictly prohibited, and I had no means of ascertaining his
address. For a while I had expected he would write or come to me; but
that hope had long died out, and the only feeling I had left for him
was contempt--contempt for his fickleness and vacillation, or the
pusillanimity which could permit him to give up the woman he had sworn
to marry because his father ordered him to do so. No! filial obedience
carries very little weight with the heart that is pitted against it;
and as I thought of it and him, I bit my lip, dashed my hand across my
eyes, and hoped the day might yet come when I should be able to show
Bruce Armytage how greatly I despised him.
At this juncture the housemaid came bustling into the room with a
little note for me--a dear little cocked-hat note--which seemed to
speak of something pleasant, and at the writer of which I had no need
to guess, for I had but one friend in Rockledge who ever sent such
notes to me.
“Waiting for an answer,” said the bearer curtly; and I tore it open
and devoured its contents.
“Dear Lizzie,--I think you will be _very much_ surprised to hear
that your little friend Amy is engaged to be married! However, it is
quite true, although the business was only settled this morning; and
the young gentleman has promised to spend the evening with us, and to
bring a cousin whom he is anxious to introduce. Will you come and take
tea with us also? The doctor has only just told me that Lady
Cunningham dines out to-night, or I should have sent before. Do come,
Lizzie. Amy is crazy to see you and tell you all her secrets, and you
know that you are always sure of a welcome from your affectionate
friend,
“Mary Rodwell.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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