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
American meals were too serious affairs for conversation; but such as
there was, was political, in all the fervid heat of the first
commencements of disunion and threatenings of civil war. After the
ladies had repaired to their saloon, with its grand ottomans, sofas,
rocking-chairs, and piano, the discussion continued among them; Cora
talking with the utmost eagerness of the tariff and of slavery, and the
other topics of the day, intensely interesting, and of terrible moment,
to her country; but that country Averil had not yet learnt to feel her
own, and to her all was one dreary whirl of words, in which she longed
to escape to her room, and read her letter. Ella had joined Rosa
Willis, and the other children; but Minna, as usual, kept under her
sister's wing, and Averil could not bear to shake herself free of the
gentle child. The ladies of the boarding-house--some resident in order
to avoid the arduous duties of housekeeping, others temporarily brought
thither in an interregnum of servants, others spending a winter in the
city--had grown tired of asking questions that met with the scantiest
response, took melancholy for disdain, and were all neglectful, some
uncivil, to the grave, silent English girl, and she was sitting alone,
with Minna's hand in hers, as she had sat for many a weary evening,
when her brother and Mr. Muller came up together, and, sitting down on
either side of her, began to talk of the rising city of
Massissauga--admirably situated--excellent water privilege,
communicating with Lake Michigan--glorious primeval forest--healthy
situation--fertile land--where a colossal fortune might be realized in
maize, eighties, sections, speculations. It was all addressed to her,
and it was a hard task to give attention, so as to return a rational
answer, while her soul would fain have been clairvoyante, to read the
letter in her breast. She did perceive, at last, though not till long
after the children had gone to bed, that the project was, that the
family should become the purchasers of shares, which would give them a
right to a portion of the soil, excellent at present for growing corn,
and certain hereafter to be multiplied in value for building; that
Henry might, in the meantime, find an opening for practice, but might
speedily be independent of it. It sounded promising, and it was
escape--escape from forced inaction, from an uncongenial life, from
injury to the children, and it would be with Cora, her one friend.
What was the demur, and why were they consulting her, who, as Henry
knew, was ready to follow him wherever he chose to carry her? At last
came a gleam of understanding: 'Then, Doctor, you will talk it over
with your sister, and give me your ultimatum;' and therewith Mr. Muller
walked away to mingle in other conversation, and Henry coming closer to
his sister, she again eagerly said, 'I have it here; you shall see it
to-morrow, when I have read it.'
'It--'
'The letter.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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