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
“If I were to marry, papa?”
“Oh, marry! No; that would not make me unhappy. It would make me very
happy, Patty, to see you married to a man you would love—very, very
happy; though my days would be desolate without you.”
“That is it, papa. What would you do if I went from you?”
“What would it matter, Patty? I should be free, at any rate, from a load
which often presses heavy on me now. What will you do when I shall leave
you? A few more years and all will be over with me. But who is it,
love? Has anybody said anything to you?”
“It was only an idea, papa. I don’t often think of such a thing; but I
did think of it then.” And so the subject was allowed to pass by. This
had happened before the day of the second arrival had been absolutely
fixed and made known to Miss Woolsworthy.
And then that second arrival took place. The reader may have understood
from the words with which Miss Le Smyrger authorised her nephew to make
his second visit to Oxney Combe that Miss Woolsworthy’s passion was not
altogether unauthorised. Captain Broughton had been told that he was not
to come unless he came with a certain purpose; and having been so told,
he still persisted in coming. There can be no doubt but that he well
understood the purport to which his aunt alluded. “I shall assuredly
come,” he had said. And true to his word, he was now there.
Patience knew exactly the hour at which he must arrive at the station at
Newton Abbot, and the time also which it would take to travel over those
twelve uphill miles from the station to Oxney. It need hardly be said
that she paid no visit to Miss Le Smyrger’s house on that afternoon; but
she might have known something of Captain Broughton’s approach without
going thither. His road to the Combe passed by the parsonage-gate, and
had Patience sat even at her bedroom window she must have seen him. But
on such a morning she would not sit at her bedroom window—she would do
nothing which would force her to accuse herself of a restless longing for
her lover’s coming. It was for him to seek her. If he chose to do so,
he knew the way to the parsonage.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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