England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
Even Benjamin lost all patience with me this time.
“What is bred in the bone,” he said, quoting the old proverb, “will
never come out of the flesh. In years gone by, you were the most
obstinate child that ever made a mess in a nursery. Oh, dear me, we
might as well have stayed in London.”
“No,” I replied, “now we have traveled to Edinburgh, we will see
something (interesting to _me_ at any rate) which we should never have
seen if we had not left London. My husband’s country-house is within a
few miles of us here. To-morrow--we will go to Gleninch.”
“Where the poor lady was poisoned?” asked Benjamin, with a look of
dismay. “You mean that place?”
“Yes. I want to see the room in which she died; I want to go all over
the house.”
Benjamin crossed his hands resignedly on his lap. “I try to understand
the new generation,” said the old man, sadly; “but I can’t manage it.
The new generation beats me.”
I sat down to write to Mr. Playmore about the visit to Gleninch. The
house in which the tragedy had occurred that had blighted my husband’s
life was, to my mind, the most interesting house on the habitable globe.
The prospect of visiting Gleninch had, indeed (to tell the truth),
strongly influenced my resolution to consult the Edinburgh lawyer. I
sent my note to Mr. Playmore by a messenger, and received the kindest
reply in return. If I would wait until the afternoon, he would get the
day’s business done, and would take us to Gleninch in his own carriage.
Benjamin’s obstinacy--in its own quiet way, and on certain occasions
only--was quite a match for mine. He had privately determined, as one of
the old generation, to have nothing to do with Gleninch. Not a word on
the subject escaped him until Mr. Playmore’s carriage was at the hotel
door. At that appropriate moment Benjamin remembered an old friend of
his in Edinburgh. “Will you please to excuse me, Valeria? My friend’s
name is Saunders; and he will take it unkindly of me if I don’t dine
with him to-day.”
Apart from the associations that I connected with it, there was nothing
to interest a traveler at Gleninch.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account