Country homes -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
When the two girls had gone in to breakfast it was for Fleda to see at a
glance that there had been a further passage, of some high color,
between Owen and his mother; and she had turned pale in guessing to what
extremity, at her expense, Mrs. Gereth had found occasion to proceed.
Hadn't she, after her clumsy flight, been pressed upon Owen in still
clearer terms? Mrs. Gereth would practically have said to him: "If
you'll take _her_, I'll move away without a sound. But if you take any
one else, any one I'm not sure of, as I am of her--heaven help me, I'll
fight to the death!" Breakfast, this morning, at Poynton, had been a
meal singularly silent, in spite of the vague little cries with which
Mrs. Brigstock turned up the underside of plates and the knowing but
alarming raps administered by her big knuckles to porcelain cups. Some
one had to respond to her, and the duty assigned itself to Fleda, who,
while pretending to meet her on the ground of explanation, wondered what
Owen thought of a girl still indelicately anxious, after she had been
grossly hurled at him, to prove by exhibitions of her fine taste that
she was really what his mother pretended. This time, at any rate, their
fate was sealed: Owen, as soon as he should get out of the house, would
describe to Mona that lady's extraordinary conduct, and if anything more
had been wanted to "fetch" Mona, as he would call it, the deficiency was
now made up. Mrs. Gereth in fact took care of that--took care of it by
the way, at the last, on the threshold, she said to the younger of her
departing guests, with an irony of which the sting was wholly in the
sense, not at all in the sound: "We haven't had the talk we might have
had, have we? You'll feel that I've neglected you, and you'll treasure
it up against me. _Don't_, because really, you know, it has been quite
an accident, and I've all sorts of information at your disposal. If you
should come down again (only you won't, ever,--I feel that!) I should
give you plenty of time to worry it out of me. Indeed there are some
things I should quite insist on your learning; not permit you at all, in
any settled way, _not_ to learn. Yes indeed, you'd put me through, and I
should put you, my dear! We should have each other to reckon with, and
you would see me as I really am. I'm not a bit the vague, mooning, easy
creature I dare say you think. However, if you won't come, you won't;
_n'en parlons plus_. It _is_ stupid here after what you're accustomed
to. We can only, all round, do what we can, eh? For heaven's sake, don't
let your mother forget her precious publication, the female magazine,
with the what-do-you-call-'em?--the grease-catchers. There!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account