The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy ChainYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy Chain
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Trials (Murder) -- Fiction
The recent wedding was the third in the family; the first after a five
years' respite. It ensued upon an attachment that had grown up with
the young people, so that they had been entirely one with each other;
and there had been little of formal demand either of the maiden's
affection or her father's consent; but both had been implied from the
first. The bridegroom was barely of age, the bride not seventeen, and
Dr. May had owned it was very shocking, and told Richard to say nothing
about it! Hector had coaxed and pleaded, pathetically talked of his
great empty house at Maplewood, and declared that till he might take
Blanche away, he would not leave Stoneborough; he would bring down all
sorts of gossip on his courtship, he would worry Ethel, and take care
she finished nobody's education. What did Blanche want with more
education? She knew enough for him. Couldn't Ethel be satisfied with
Aubrey and Gertrude? or he dared say she might have Mary too, if she
was insatiable. If Dr. May was so unnatural as to forbid him to hang
about the house, why, he would take rooms at the Swan. In fact, as Dr.
May observed, he treated him to a modern red-haired Scotch version of
'Make me a willow cabin at your gate;' and as he heartily loved Hector
and entirely trusted him, and Blanche's pretty head was a wise and
prudent one, what was the use of keeping the poor lad unsettled?
So Mrs. Rivers, the eldest sister and the member's wife, had come to
arrange matters and help Ethel, and a very brilliant wedding it had
been. Blanche was too entirely at home with Hector for flutterings or
agitations, and was too peacefully happy for grief at the separation,
which completed the destiny that she had always seen before her. She
was a picture of a bride; and when she and Hector hung round the
Doctor, insisting that Edinburgh should be the first place they should
visit, and calling forth minute directions for their pilgrimage to the
scenes of his youth, promising to come home and tell him all, no wonder
he felt himself rather gaining a child than losing one. He was very
bright and happy; and no one but Ethel understood how all the time
there was a sensation that the present was but a strange dreamy parody
of that marriage which had been the theme of earlier hopes.
The wedding had taken place shortly after Easter; and immediately
after, the Rivers family had departed for London, and Tom May had
returned to Cambridge, leaving the home party at the minimum of four,
since, Cocksmoor Parsonage being complete, Richard had become only a
daily visitor instead of a constant inhabitant.
There he sat, occupying his never idle hands with a net that he kept
for such moments, whilst Ethel sat behind her urn, now giving out its
last sighs, profiting by the leisure to read the county newspaper,
while she continually filled up her cup with tea or milk as occasion
served, indifferent to the increasing pallor of the liquid.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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