The Heir Presumptive and the Heir ApparentOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The Heir Presumptive and the Heir Apparent
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Aristocracy (Social class) -- England -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
“Oh Mar, my dear, never mind me, but think sometimes of your poor mother
living in a dream and not knowing--and that she may wake up before she
dies. God bless you, God bless you, my little Mar.”
Mar was not to be found when Duke came back to look for him, half
touched, half triumphant, having given Lady Frogmore, he thought, a few
things to think of, though he had not mentioned her son. He had kept his
_consigné_ according to the letter of Agnes’ instructions, but he had
given a hint or two of someone who was waiting for him, and people whom
Aunt Mary would not care to see. “I know how particular you are,” the
young man had said. Lady Frogmore had not seemed to understand him, but
no doubt she understood him, and he hoped would feel ashamed of herself.
All this he meant to pour upon Mar, to indemnify him, by the fact that
other people cared for him, for his mother’s neglect; but Mar was
nowhere to be found. He did not appear at all till late in the
afternoon, when he came in very tired and pale, stumbling upstairs to
the schoolroom so fatigued that he could scarcely drag one foot after
the other. He said he had been in the woods, that he had not wanted any
luncheon, that he wanted nothing now except to lie down a little and
rest, when his cousins and the servants surrounded him open-mouthed.
“Oh, Mar, mamma is so angry. She will not let you come to the ball,”
cried Tiny; and Letty gave him a little lecture upon making everybody
anxious. But the worst of all was when Letitia herself appeared with a
basin of soup in her hand and wrath in her countenance. “I did not think
after all the fuss that has been made about you that you would choose
this day to put us all out,” she cried, “but I ought to have known that
it was just the fuss and nonsense that would turn your silly head. Take
this at once, and you can go to bed: for you certainly shan’t come down
again to-night.”
“I don’t want anything,” said Mar, turning his head from the light.
“Take it this moment,” cried Letitia; “I am not going to be trifled
with. Nourishment you must have, and you shall have it so long as I am
here to see after you. I have got a hundred things to do, but I shan’t
leave this room till you have taken it. You can do what you will with
the others, but you shall not overcome me.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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