The Parson's Daughter of Oxney ColneTrollope, Anthony
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The Parson's Daughter of Oxney Colne
Trollope, Anthony
Children of clergy -- Fiction; Devon (England) -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction; Short stories
“Ah!” said Captain Broughton. He had his own ideas about property, and
did not, even under existing circumstances, like to hear that his aunt
considered herself at liberty to leave the acres away to one who was by
blood quite a stranger to the family.
“Does Patience know of this?” he asked.
“Not a word,” said Miss Le Smyrger. And then nothing more was said upon
the subject.
On that afternoon he went down and received the parson’s benediction and
congratulations with a good grace. Patience said very little on the
occasion, and indeed was absent during the greater part of the interview.
The two lovers then walked up to Oxney Combe, and there were more
benedictions and more congratulations. “All went merry as a marriage
bell,” at any rate as far as Patience was concerned. Not a word had yet
fallen from that dear mouth, not a look had yet come over that handsome
face, which tended in any way to mar her bliss. Her first day of
acknowledged love was a day altogether happy, and when she prayed for him
as she knelt beside her bed there was no feeling in her mind that any
fear need disturb her joy.
I will pass over the next three or four days very quickly, merely saying
that Patience did not find them so pleasant as that first day after her
engagement. There was something in her lover’s manner—something which at
first she could not define—which by degrees seemed to grate against her
feelings.
He was sufficiently affectionate, that being a matter on which she did
not require much demonstration; but joined to his affection there seemed
to be—; she hardly liked to suggest to herself a harsh word, but could it
be possible that he was beginning to think that she was not good enough
for him? And then she asked herself the question—was she good enough for
him? If there were doubt about that, the match should be broken off,
though she tore her own heart out in the struggle. The truth, however,
was this—that he had begun that teaching which he had already found to be
so necessary. Now, had any one essayed to teach Patience German or
mathematics, with that young lady’s free consent, I believe that she
would have been found a meek scholar. But it was not probable that she
would be meek when she found a self-appointed tutor teaching her manners
and conduct without her consent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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