Clergy -- England -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Kate looked at him, her gray eyes very doubtful, and did not at once
answer. He had clearly made up his mind to join his fortunes to theirs,
while she, on her side, had reasons for shrinking from intimacy with
him. But he seemed to consider it so much a matter of course that they
should remain together and travel together, that she scarcely saw how
to put things on a different footing. She knew, too, that she would get
no help from Daintry, who already regarded their detention in the light
of a capital joke.
“What are you going to do yourself, Mr. Lindo?” she said at last, her
manner rather chilling.
He opened his eyes and smiled. “You discard me, then?” he said. “You
have lost all faith in me, Miss Bonamy? Well, I deserve it after the
scrape into which I have led you.”
“I did not mean that,” she answered. “I wished to know if you had made
any plans.”
“Yes,” he replied—“to make amends, if you will let me take command of
the party. We will stay in Oxford, and I will show you round the
colleges.”
“No?” exclaimed Daintry. “Will you? How jolly! And then?”
“We will dine at the Mitre,” he answered, smiling, “if Miss Bonamy will
permit me to manage everything. And then, if you leave here at
nine-thirty to-morrow you will be at Claversham soon after twelve. Will
that suit you?”
Daintry’s face answered sufficiently for her. As for Kate, she was in a
difficulty. She knew little of hotels: yet they must stop somewhere,
and no doubt Mr. Lindo would take a great deal of trouble off her
hands. But would it be proper to do as he proposed? She really did not
know—only that it sounded odd. That it would not be wise she knew. She
could answer that question at once. But how could she explain, and how
tell him to go his way and leave them? And, after all, to see Oxford
would be delightful; and he really was very pleasant, very different
from the men she knew at home.
“You are very good,” she said at length, with a grateful sigh—“if we
have no choice but between Oxford and Birmingham.”
“And no choice of guides at all,” he said, smiling, “you will take me.”
“Yes,” she answered, looking away primly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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