The private life, The wheel of time, Lord Beaupré, The visits, Collaboration, Owen Wingrave.James, Henry
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The private life, The wheel of time, Lord Beaupré, The visits, Collaboration, Owen Wingrave.
James, Henry
American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American
"Then all I can say is that it's not very nice! But they sha'n't come
back: _I_'ll attend to that!" said Hugh Gosselin, who has attended to it
up to this time successfully, though the rest of his mother's prophecy
is so far accomplished (it was her second hit) as that Charlotte
Firminger is now, strange as it may seem, Lady Beaupré.
THE VISITS
The other day, after her death, when they were discussing her, someone
said in reference to the great number of years she had lived, the people
she had seen and the stories she knew: "What a pity no one ever took any
notes of her talk!" For a London epitaph that was almost exhaustive, and
the subject presently changed. One of the listeners had taken many
notes, but he didn't confess it on the spot. The following story is a
specimen of my exactitude--I took it down, _verbatim_, having that
faculty, the day after I heard it. I choose it, at hazard, among those
of her reminiscences that I have preserved; it's not worse than the
others. I will give you some of the others too--when occasion offers--so
that you may judge.
I met in town that year a dear woman whom I had scarcely seen since I
was a girl; she had dropped out of the world; she came up but once in
five years. We had been together as very young creatures, and then we
had married and gone our ways. It was arranged between us that after I
should have paid a certain visit in August in the west of England I
would take her--it would be very convenient, she was just over the
Cornish border--on the way to my other engagements: I would work her in,
as you say nowadays. She wanted immensely to show me her home, and she
wanted still more to show me her girl, who had not come up to London,
choosing instead, after much deliberation, to go abroad for a month with
her brother and her brother's coach--he had been cramming for
something--and Mrs. Coach of course. All that Mrs. Chantry had been able
to show me in town was her husband, one of those country gentlemen with
a moderate property and an old place who are a part of the essence in
their own neighbourhood and not a part of anything anywhere else.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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