The King's HighwayJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
The King's Highway
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Great Britain -- History -- William and Mary, 1689-1702 -- Fiction
Laura, however, still clung to Wilton's arm, as her best support; and
following the clergyman together, they proceeded to the parsonage,
escorted by a number of footmen, farming servants, and people
collected in haste, who had come to the examination of Wicks's house.
On their arrival, they were ushered into a tall dining-room with
carved panels, the atmosphere of which was strongly imbued with the
mingled odour of punch and tobacco, an unsavoury but at that time
very ordinary perfume in the dining-room of almost every country
gentleman. The mistress of the mansion, however, proved, in point of
manners and appearance, considerably superior to her lord and master,
and did all that she could in a very kind and delicate manner to
render the beautiful girl, cast for the time on her hospitality, as
comfortable as the circumstances would admit.
It is not to be denied, indeed, that both Wilton and Laura could at
that time have very well spared the presence of any other persons,
for there were feelings in the hearts of both which eagerly longed
for voice. There was much to be told; there was much to be explained;
there was much to be determined between them. There was, indeed, the
consciousness of mutual love, which is no slight blessing and
comfort, under any circumstances; but that very consciousness
produced the longing thirst for farther communion which nothing but
love can give.
When all has been said, indeed--when the whole heart has been poured
forth--when the first intense feelings of a new passion have worn
away, or, having grown familiar to our bosoms, surprise us no longer,
we can better bear the presence of others; for a look, an occasional
word, even a tone, will convey to the mind of those we love, all that
we could wish to say. But when love is fresh, and every feeling
produced thereby is new and wonderful to our hearts; when we make
hourly discoveries of new sensations in our own bosoms, and neither
know how to express them, nor how to conceal them, the presence of
others--cold, indifferent, strange--is no slight punishment and
privation.
Laura endeavoured, as far as possible, to keep down such feelings,
but yet she could not drive them from her bosom. The minutes seemed
long, tedious, and heavy: from time to time she would fall into a fit
of musing; from time to time she would answer wide from the question;
but it fortunately so happened, that the events which had lately
occurred, and her anxiety to rejoin her father, were causes
sufficient to account for greater inequalities of conduct than these.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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