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
'You may be sure of him, sir,' said Harry, speaking the more eagerly
because he suspected the impression his own manner had made; 'he is
thoroughly worthy, and feels Mary's merits pretty nearly as much as I
do. More, perhaps, I ought to say. There's more warmth in him than
shows. I don't know that Norman ever could have gone through that
terrible time after the accident, but for the care he took of him. And
that little brother of his that sailed with me in the Eurydice, and
died at Singapore--I know how he looked to his brother Charles, and I
do assure you, father, you could not put the dear Mary into safer,
sounder hands, or where she could be more prized or happier. He is
coming up to-morrow morning, and you'll see he is in earnest in spite
of all his set speeches. Good night, father; I am glad to be in time
for the last of my Polly.'
This was almost the only moment at which Harry betrayed a consciousness
that his Polly was less completely his own. And yet it seemed as if it
must have been borne in on him again and again, for Mary awoke the next
morning as thoroughly, foolishly, deeply in love as woman could be, and
went about comporting herself in the most comically commonplace style,
forgetting and neglecting everything, not hearing nor seeing, making
absurd mistakes, restless whenever Mr. Cheviot was not present, and
then perfectly content if he came to sit by her, as he always did; for
his courtship--now it had fairly begun--was equally exclusive and
determined. Every day they walked or rode together, almost every
evening he came and sat by her, and on each holiday they engrossed the
drawing-room, Mary looking prettier than she had ever been seen before;
Aubrey and Gertrude both bored and critical; Harry treating the whole
as a pantomime got up for his special delectation, and never betokening
any sense that Mary was neglecting him. It was the greatest help to
Ethel in keeping up the like spirit, under the same innocent
unconscious neglect from the hitherto devoted Mary, who was only
helpful in an occasional revival of mechanical instinct in lucid
intervals, and then could not be depended on. To laugh good-naturedly
and not bitterly, to think the love-making pretty and not foolish, to
repress Gertrude's saucy scorn, instead of encouraging it, would have
been far harder without the bright face of the brother who generously
surrendered instead of repining.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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