The House on the Moor, v. 2/3Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The House on the Moor, v. 2/3
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fiction
but, save for a little querulousness of expression, by no means like
an invalid. Neither did the shade of Parisian fashion in his dress
increase his pretensions to ill health, though it added a certain
odd, indefinable something of the ridiculous to his appearance, which
Colonel Sutherland could not make out, yet could not help observing.
Of this, however, nobody could be more profoundly unaware than Sir
John, though no one would have been quicker to perceive the same thing
in another. He took his seat at the cosy round table with a sigh of
satisfaction, and looked round upon all the comforts of the room; the
fire sparkling and manageable and not too large, the crimson curtains
drawn, the bright lamp, the well-spread table, and Patchey's solemn
face at the sideboard. "Happy man!--_you_ have not been thrust into
a gloomy desert of an Armitage Park, and congratulated on your good
fortune--_you_ can make yourself as cosy as you will!" said Sir John,
who for the moment commiserated himself most sincerely, and thought
with a positive shudder of those ghostly rooms from which he had fled,
to such cold comfort as could be found in a Parisian _appartement_,
shining with white marble and white muslin, stucco and gold.
"I suppose you could make yourself snug, too, if you preferred it, eh?"
said the Colonel, across the table. "I don't think _I_ should have
quarrelled with Armitage Park, for the sake of my Ned and Tom."
And as he said these words he put his hand to his ear, and bent across
the table for his companion's answer; for the Colonel was not without a
spice of mischief in his nature, and rather enjoyed the silent hitch of
the unfortunate baronet's shoulder, the pucker on his brow, and the
"pshaw!" of disgust which burst from his lips. However, the dinner
mollified Sir John--that Indo-British dinner, with its one
yellow-complexioned dish, and its general tone, slight but _prononcée_,
of oriental fervor. Had not Betsy been cook to General Mulligatawny, and
lived three years with Mrs. Melrose? Paris was nothing to her--Sir John
proclaimed his enthusiastic approbation aloud.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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