Christmas stories; Courtship -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Short stories
Her mother had changed her own mind more than once as to the conduct in
this matter which might be best for her to follow, thinking solely of her
daughter’s welfare. “If he comes they will be reconciled, and she will
be happy,” had been her first idea. But then there was a stern fixedness
of purpose in Bessy’s words when she spoke of Mr. Holmes, which had
expelled this hope, and Mrs. Garrow had for a while thought it better
that the young man should not come. But Bessy would not permit this. It
would vex her father, put out of course the arrangements of other people,
and display weakness on her own part. He should come, and she would
endure without flinching while the fox gnawed at her.
That battle of the mistletoe had been fought on the morning before
Christmas-day, and the Holmeses came on Christmas-eve. Isabella was
comparatively a stranger, and therefore received at first the greater
share of attention. She and Elizabeth had once seen each other, and for
the last year or two had corresponded, but personally they had never been
intimate. Unfortunately for the latter, that story of Godfrey’s offer
and acceptance had been communicated to Isabella, as had of course the
immediately subsequent story of their separation. But now it would be
almost impossible to avoid the subject in conversation. “Dearest
Isabella, let it be as though it had never been,” she had said in one of
her letters. But sometimes it is very difficult to let things be as
though they had never been.
The first evening passed over very well. The two Coverdale girls were
there, and there had been much talking and merry laughter, rather
juvenile in its nature, but on the whole none the worse for that.
Isabella Holmes was a fine, tall, handsome girl; good-humoured, and well
disposed to be pleased; rather Frenchified in her manners, and quite able
to take care of herself. But she was not above round games, and did not
turn up her nose at the boys. Godfrey behaved himself excellently,
talking much to the Major, but by no means avoiding Miss Garrow. Mrs.
Garrow, though she had known him since he was a boy, had taken an
aversion to him since he had quarrelled with her daughter; but there was
no room on this first night for showing such aversion, and everything
went off well.
“Godfrey is very much improved,” the Major said to his wife that night.
“Do you think so?”
“Indeed I do. He has filled out and become a fine man.”
“In personal appearance, you mean. Yes, he is well-looking enough.”
“And in his manner, too. He is doing uncommonly well in Liverpool, I can
tell you; and if he should think of Bessy—”
“There is nothing of that sort,” said Mrs. Garrow.
“He did speak to me, you know,—two years ago. Bessy was too young then,
and so indeed was he. But if she likes him—”
“I don’t think she does.”
“Then there’s an end of it.” And so they went to bed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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