The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy ChainYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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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
'My dear Richard, just imagine turning loose a lot of boys and girls,
with no keeper, to enjoy themselves in some wild sea place! No, no:
the only way to give the arrangement any shade of propriety, will be to
be elderly, infuse as much vinegar as possible into my countenance,
wear my spectacles, and walk at a staid pace up and down the parade,
while my two sons disport themselves on the rocks.'
'If you really think it would not be proper,' said Richard, rather
alarmed, 'I could run after my father.'
'Stuff, Richard; papa must have his way; and if it is to do the boy
good, I can sacrifice a crab--I mean myself--not a crustacean. I am
not going to be such a selfish wretch as to make objections.'
'But if it would not be the correct thing? Or could not you get some
one to stay with you?'
'I can make it the correct thing. It is only to abstain from the fun I
had hoped for. I meant to have been a girl, and now I must be a woman,
that's all; and I dare say Aubrey will be the happier for it--boys
always are.'
'If you don't like it, I wish you would let me speak to papa.'
'Richard, have you these five years been the safety-valve for my
murmurs without knowing what they amount to?'
'I thought no one complained unless to get a thing remedied.'
'Exactly so. That is man! And experience never shows man that woman's
growls relieve her soul, and that she dreads nothing more than their
being acted on! All I wish is, that this scheme may die a natural
death; but I should be miserable, and deserved to be so, if I raised a
finger to hinder it. What, must you go? Rule Daisy's lines if she
writes to Meta, please.'
'I did so. I have been trying to make her write straighter.'
'Of course you have. I expect I shall find her organ of order grown to
a huge bump when she comes home. Oh! when will our poor remnants be
once more a united family? and when shall I get into Cocksmoor school
again?'
When Dr. May came home, his plan was in full bloom. Henry had
gratefully accepted it, and answered for his brother being able to
travel by the next Monday; and Dr. May wanted Ethel to walk with him to
Bankside, and propose it there--talking it over with the sister, and
making it her own invitation. Ethel saw her fate, and complied, her
father talking eagerly all the way.
'You see, Ethel, it is quite as much for his spirits as his health that
I wish it. He is just the age that our Norman was.'
That was the key to a great deal. Ethel knew that her father had never
admitted any of the many excuses for the neglect of Norman's suffering
for the three months after his mother's death; but though it thrilled
her all over, she was not prepared to believe that any one, far less
any Ward, could be of the same sensitive materials as Norman. To avoid
answering, she went more than half-way, by saying, 'Don't you think I
might ask those poor girls to come with him?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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