Clergy -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"Oh, Mary, how can you talk of such things at such a time?" the young
Sister of Mercy had answered once more, turning those severe eyes of
youthful devotion upon her troubled elder sister, who, to tell the
truth, not having been brought up to it, as she said, felt much the
same on Easter Eve as at other times of her life; and thus once more
the matter concluded. As for Mr Wentworth, he was much occupied on
that last day of the Holy Week with a great many important matters on
hand. He had not seen the Wodehouses since the Good Friday evening
service, which was an interval of about twenty hours, and had just
paused, before eating his bachelor's dinner, to ponder whether it
would be correct on that most sacred of vigils to steal away for half
an hour, just to ask Lucy if she thought it necessary that he should
see the sick woman at No. 10 Prickett's Lane before the morning.
It was while he was pondering this matter in his mind that Mr
Wentworth's heart jumped to his throat upon receipt, quite suddenly,
without preparation, of the following note:--
"MY DEAREST BOY,--Your aunts Cecilia, Leonora, and I have just arrived
at this excellent inn, the Blue Boar. Old Mr Shirley at Skelmersdale
is in a very bad way, poor man, and I thought the _very best_ thing I
could do in my dearest Frank's _best_ interests, was to persuade them
to make you _quite_ an _unexpected visit_, and see everything for
themselves. I am in a terrible fright now lest I should have done
wrong; but my dear, dear boy knows it is always his interest that I
have at heart; and Leonora is so intent on having a _real gospel
minister_ at Skelmersdale, that she _never_ would have been content
with anything less than hearing you with her own ears. I hope and
trust in Providence that you don't intone like poor Gerald. And oh,
Frank, my dear boy, come directly and dine with us, and don't fly in
your aunt Leonora's face, and tell me I haven't been imprudent. I
thought it would be best to take you unawares when you had everything
prepared, and when we should see you just as you always are; for I am
convinced Leonora and you only want to see more of each other to
understand each other perfectly. Come, my dearest boy, and give a
little comfort to your loving and anxious
"AUNT DORA."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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