Clergy -- Fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Religious fiction
"Can't you think what a way I must be in at being prevented
coming to see you? Sir Gilbert excels himself this time for
obstinacy and wilfulness. Every breakfast, every dinner, and
every tea since it happened, William and I do nothing but beg
and entreat that I may be permitted to go over and see your
poor mother! Good gracious! as I tell him, it is not her
fault--though God knows I do think just as much as he does,
that no man ever did make such a tom-fool of a will as your
father. Such a man as Charles! as Sir Gilbert says. 'Twas made
at the full of the moon, my dear, and that's the long and the
short of it; he was just mad, Helen, and nothing else. But is
that any reason that your poor dear mother should be neglected
and forsaken this way! God bless her dear soul! she's more like
a baby than any thing I ever saw, about money; and as to her
being an heiress, why I don't believe, upon my honour, that she
has ever recollected it from the day she married to the time
that your unlucky, poor dear distracted madman of a father
threw all her money back at her in this wild way. He had much
better have pelted her with rotten eggs, Helen! Such a friend
as Sir Gilbert, so warm-hearted, so steady, and so true, is not
to be found every day--old tiger as he is. But what on earth am
I to do about it? I shall certainly go mad too, if I can't get
at you; and yet, I give you my word, I no more dare order the
coachman to drive me to Mowbray Park than to the devil. You
never saw such a tyrannical brute of a husband as Sir Gilbert
is making himself about it! And poor William, too--he really
speaks to him as if he were a little beggar-boy in the streets,
instead of a colonel of dragoons. William said last night
something very like, 'I shall ride over to Wrexhill to-morrow,
and perhaps I shall see the family at Mow....' I wish you had
seen him--I only wish you had seen Sir Gilbert, Helen, for half
a moment!--you would never have forgotten it, my dear, and it
might have given you a hint as to choosing a husband. Never
marry a man with great, wide, open, light-coloured eyes, and
enormous black eyebrows, for fear he should swallow you alive
some day before you know where you are. 'See them! 'roared Sir
Gilbert. 'If you do, by G--d, sir, I'll leave every sou I have
in the world to some cursed old woman myself; but it shan't be
to you, madam,' turning short round as if he would bite
me:--'laugh if you will, but go to Mowbray if you dare!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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