The Son of His Father; vol. 2/3Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The Son of His Father; vol. 2/3
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fathers and sons -- Fiction
Elly followed John out without saying a word, going after him quite
solemnly: the colour had gone out of her face, her steps were subdued as
if in subjection to his. No fear had been in Elly’s mind. She had been
accustomed to find most things yield to her, and she did not see in this
new event so great an additional gravity that she should have been
brought to a stop in her life, or made to contemplate the idea of
failure. Even now she would have fallen back upon the supreme
consciousness of her importance in the house, and her father’s
incapability of resisting anything she desired, had not that short but
most conclusive colloquy between John and Percy confused all her ideas
and silenced the words on her lips. Aunt Mary, it is true, was more
strenuous in her resistance, more determined than Elly had any idea of;
but the girl, who knew the ways of her own race and kind, knew well that
even Aunt Mary, after a great deal of impassioned argument, going over
and over again every feature of the case, would end by exhausting
everything against it, and coming round to the conviction that there was
nothing so interesting in life as the young pair and their hopes, and
that, however she might shake her head over it, her happiness was
involved in Elly’s. That was the strong point of which Elly was quite
conscious. Her own happiness was a matter too important to the household
to be permanently risked in any way.
But a few words from Percy, for whom she had no veneration, whom she
rather scorned in his new sacerdotal assumptions, had changed all this!
Elly was confused by the suddenness of the revolution, and did not
understand it, nor did she quite understand the hasty, resolute step
with which John went on, not observing, apparently, that he was walking
out before her. Not that she minded that; it seemed, on the contrary,
quite natural. She liked him to forget that he needed to stand on any
punctilio with her. The wonderful thing was that Percy had done it all,
and that a change had been wrought in John himself by that little
curate. There was, then, a freemasonry among them, _too_. She walked on
beside her lover, breathless, finding it a little difficult to keep up
with him; and at length, when her mind began to get into working order
again, broke the silence with a question.
‘Jack, what are you going to do?’
Whereupon he stopped all at once, and turned round upon her.
‘Elly! to think that I should have been thinking so much of you as
almost to forget you were there! Percy’s right, that’s the truth. I must
go away. I couldn’t be such a hound as to upset you and put you out with
them, when there’s nothing more possible for the moment. I’ve got to go
and work it out.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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