The Railway Man and His ChildrenOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The Railway Man and His Children
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Children of the rich -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; Forgery -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction; Social classes -- Fiction
“Oh, you would like to know?” he said, opening his eyes wide, with a
laugh. “Perhaps if I were to tell you, you would never speak to me any
more.”
“I am not that kind,” said Marion. “I would always speak to you,
whatever you did--if you were sorry.”
“Ah! but the chief thing in me is that I am not a bit sorry,” said
Eddy.--“Are you going back already you two? You go off like a hunter,
Rose, never minding who toils after you. Miss Rowland and I are going
further on.”
“There is a beautiful view up there,” said Rosamond, pointing to the
west, “if you cared about views, and the mountains are beautiful in that
direction, but as you never would look at a landscape in your life----”
“Not when I had mettle more attractive,” said Eddy, with a look at
Marion, and then he laughed out, “When I can combine both, I like it
very much.”
“Mary, it is perhaps going to rain. I would not advise you to go very
far,” said Archie, who was more susceptible than his sister to the light
compliment and the laughter. But Marion stood her ground.
“Since we came to Rosmore,” she said, “it has always been going to rain,
and we can shelter under the trees, and it does no harm. I have promised
to Mr. Saumarez to show him Ben Ros before we go in.”
“I am very anxious to make the acquaintance of Ben Ros,” said Eddy with
a laugh. “_Au revoir_, you people who have accomplished that part
already. I don’t suppose you are deeply attached to Ben Ros--what do
you call him--are you? But it is always a good excuse for a walk--and a
talk.”
“You never call me by my name,” said Marion; “you say just _you_, as if
I were not a person at all.”
“Because you would be angry if I called you by your name.”
“Me, angry! Why I am just Miss Rowland to everybody, servants and all.”
“I suppose you don’t rank me with the servants? I shall say Marion or
nothing--and of course you would not allow me--or May, that is your name
too, and the prettiest of all.”
“May is short for Marion,” she said with a blush.
“And I’m to call you so? Then I shall do nothing but call you by it.
May, May--it is the prettiest name in the world.”
Thus there came into conjunction another two who were not Mr. Rowland’s
two, nor perhaps a two who were very desirable companions for each
other, yet who suited each other, as Mr. Edward Saumarez eloquently
expressed it, down to the ground.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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