The Last of the Mortimers: A Story in Two VoicesOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The Last of the Mortimers: A Story in Two Voices
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fiction
The people seemed all to guess that we belonged to the new regiment; and
some of them were quite great ladies, and quite enlightened me as to
what we should require. For most of the day I was in a perfect panic;
every place seeming dearer than another. When we went into those
expensive rooms I always found out something that it was quite
impossible for me to tolerate (quite independent, of course, you know,
of any question of price!) till Harry quite fretted at my
fastidiousness. At last we did find a place _that suited me_. It was no
great thing in point of situation. It was a first floor, a front and
back drawing-room. I believe, candidly, that the back room was about as
big as Mrs. Saltoun’s good substantial old dining-table, which we used
to have in our sitting-room in Edinburgh; but then there were
folding-doors; and the front drawing-room was decorated and ornamented
to such a pitch that one was quite afraid to sit down in any of the
chairs. When I heard what the rent was, I was charmed with the rooms.
Harry could not understand my enthusiasm. I found it the handiest place
in the world;--and then it showed such discrimination in the landlady to
ask so moderate a rent. We fetched Lizzie and baby from the inn
directly, and dismissed Harry to look at the town. And really, when we
got a little settled, it was not so uncomfortable; though, to be sure,
to give up the sizeable room for company (and they never came!), and to
live in that little box behind was very foolish, as I always thought.
However, when, I above and Lizzy below, we had investigated the house,
and when the landlady was made to comprehend, with difficulty, that our
washing was done at home, and that her toleration of these processes was
needful, and when her wonder and the first shock to her system conveyed
in this piece of intelligence was over, things looked tolerably
promising. The worst was, we had no view; no view whatever except the
bit of garden plot before the house, filled with dusty evergreens, and
the corner of a street which led to the railway station. The cabs and
people, going to and from the trains, made the only variety in the
prospect; and anybody will allow that was sadly different from windows
which looked sidelong over the corner of Bruntsfield Links, upon the
Castle, and the Crags, and Arthur’s Seat. However, what I had to think
of, in the meantime, was how to live without getting into debt; for, of
course, people like us, with just so much money coming in (and oh, how
very, very little it was!), had neither any excuse nor any way of saving
themselves if once they ventured into debt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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