English fiction -- 19th century; London (England) -- Fiction; Poor -- Fiction; Poverty -- Fiction
Neither of them had the habit of making long speeches. They understood
each other—very nearly; sufficiently, at all events, to make the bond
of sympathy between them stronger than ever. Jane was misled a little,
for she thought that here was the explanation of Sidney’s withdrawing
his word to her grandfather; doubtless he heard of the calamity when it
happened. But on a more essential point she fell into no misconception.
Did Sidney desire that she should?
He held her hand until she gently drew it away.
‘You will go up and tell grandfather,’ she said, gravely; then added,
before he could speak, ‘But I’ll just see him first for a minute. He
hasn’t been out of his room this morning yet. Please wait here.’
She left him, and Sidney fell back on his chair, woebegone, distracted.
Michael, brooding sorrowfully, at first paid no heed to Jane when she
entered his room. It was not long since he had risen, and his simple
breakfast, scarcely touched, was still on the table.
‘Grandfather, Mr. Kirkwood is here, and wishes to speak to you.’
He collected himself, and, regarding her, became aware that she was
strongly moved.
‘Wishes to see me, Jane? Then I suppose he came to see you first?’
Prepared now for anything unexpected, feeling that the links between
himself and these young people were artificial, and that he could but
watch, as if from a distance, the course of their lives, his first
supposition was, that Sidney had again altered his mind. He spoke
coldly, and had little inclination for the interview.
‘Yes,’ Jane replied, ‘he came to see me, but only to tell me that he is
going to be married.’
His wrinkled face slowly gathered an expression of surprise.
‘He will tell you who it is; he will explain. But I wanted to speak to
you first. Grandfather, I was afraid you might say something about me.
Will you—will you forget my foolishness? Will you think of me as you
did before? When he has spoken to you, you will understand why I am
content to put everything out of my mind, everything you and I talked
of. But I couldn’t bear for him to know how I have disappointed you.
Will you let me be all I was to you before? Will you trust me again,
grandfather? You haven’t spoken to him yet about me, have you?’
Michael shook his head.
‘Then you will let it be as if nothing had happened? Grandfather—’
She bent beside him and took his hand. Michael looked at her with a
light once more in his eyes.
‘Tell him to come. He shall hear nothing from me, Jane.’
‘And you will try to forget it?’
‘I wish nothing better. Tell him to come here, my child. When he’s gone
we’ll talk together again.’
The interview did not last long, and Sidney left the house without
seeing Jane a second time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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