The Three BridesYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Three Brides
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction
"He thought he was right, and that only such abstinence could guard
me. And, Miles, a promise is a promise, and I do not think I ought
to dance or play at cards. It is not that I think them wrong for
others, but I cannot break my word. Except those--I will do
whatever is fitting for your wife."
"Spoken like a heroine!"
"I don't think I could ever give a tone. Rosamond could, if she
tried, but I have no readiness and no training; but I do see that
there is more good in being friendly like Jenny Bowater, than in
avoiding everything, and as long as one does it because it is right
and loving, it can't be the world or worldliness."
It was not lucidly expressed, but it satisfied the Captain.
"All right, my bonnie Nance, I'll promise on my side never to ask
you to go against your real conscience, and if you must have a Pope,
I had rather it were Pope Julius than Pope Pilgrim."
"Don't, Miles. Popes are all wrong, and I don't know whether Mr.
Pilgrim would give the right hand of fellowship to Julius."
Miles chuckled. "You may think yourself lucky you have not to
adjust that question, Madame Nan."
"There's the quarter chiming, Frank will want his beef-tea."
Presently after Miles laid his hand on his mother's shoulder, and
said, "Mother, here's a daughter who thinks you want to turn us out
because she is too slow and stupid for your home child." And he
drew Anne up blushing as if she were his freshly-won bride.
"My dear, are you sure you don't want to go away from the old woman?
Should you not be happier with him all to yourself?"
"I could not be happy if you were left," said Anne. "May I go on as
we did last winter? I will try to do better now I have him to help
me."
"My own dear child!"
That was the way Anne forgot her own people and her father's house.
CHAPTER XXXIII
Herbert's Victory
And of our scholars let us learn
Our own forgotten lore.--KEBLE
"Joan, Jenny, dearest old Joanie!" It was eagerly spoken, though
the voice was strangely altered that came from behind the flowered
curtain of that big bed, while the fingers drew it back, and Rollo
raised his black muzzle near at hand. "Oh, Jenny! have you come to
me?"
"My dear, dear, poor boy!"
"No kissing--it's not safe," and he burrowed under the sheet.
"As if I did not mean to do more for you than that! Besides, it is
not catching."
"So I said, till it caught me. What a jolly cold hand! You've not
come in cold and hungry though?"
"No, indeed, Rosamond forced me to sit down to a whole spread. As
if one could eat with a knot in one's throat."
"Mind you do, Jenny--it was what did for me. The Rector ordered me
never to go about unfed; but one could not always--and there was
something I have to tell you that drove all the rest out--"
"Dear Herbs! Papa can't talk of what you have done without tears.
He longed to come, but we could not leave mamma without one of us,
and he thought I could do the most for you. I have a note for you."
"Forgiving me?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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