The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 3 of 5)Burney, Fanny
History
The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 3 of 5)
Burney, Fanny
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Refugees -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Refugees -- Fiction; War stories
No further efforts were necessary to repress the laugh; resentment,
rather than gravity, took its place, and, with pouting lips, and a
frowning brow, she answered, 'Ill? Yes! I have had enough to make me
ill, that's sure! It's more a wonder, by half, that I a'n't dead; for I
cried so that my eyes grew quite little; and I looked quite a fright;
and I grew so hoarse that nobody could tell a word I said; though I
talked enough, I'm sure; for nothing can hinder me of my talking, if it
was never so, papa says.'
Juliet now, upon closer enquiry, learnt that Flora had neither had a
fever, nor desired a meeting; and that Mrs Pierson had neither written
the letter, nor given any orders about a return post-chaise.
The passing suspicions which already had occurred to Juliet in disfavour
of Sir Lyell Sycamore, returned, now, with redoubled force. That he had
made signs to the driver to quit the high road, however dismaying, she
had attributed to sudden impulse, upon meeting her alone in a
post-chaise; and had not doubted that, upon seeing the sincerity of her
resentment, he would have retired with shame and repentance: but a plan
thus concerted to get her into his power, changed apprehension into
certainty, and indignation into abhorrence.
The happy accident to which she owed her escape, even from the
knowledge, till it was past, of her danger, she now blessed with
rapture; and the junket, so disdained and rejected, she now felt that
she could never recollect without grateful delight.
But how return to Brighthelmstone? What vehicle find? How trust herself
to any even when procured?
She enquired of Flora whether it were possible that Mrs Pierson could
grant her one night's lodging?
The smiles, the dimples, and the good humour of the simple girl, all
revived, and played about her pretty face, at this request. 'O yes!' she
cried. 'Miss Ellis, I shall be so glad to have you come! for mamma and I
are so dull together that I'm quite moped. I don't like it by half as
well as I did the shop. So many smart gentlemen and ladies coming in and
out every moment! dressed so nice, and speaking so polite! I'm obliged
to wear all my worst things, now, to save my others, mamma says, for
fear of the expence. And it makes me not look as well by half, as I did
at Miss Matson's. I looked well enough there, I believe; as people told
me; at least the gentlemen. But I go such a dowd, here, that it's enough
to frighten you. I'm sure when I go to the glass, and that's a hundred
times a-day, for aught I know, if it were counted, to see what sort of a
figure I make, I could break it with pleasure, for seeing me such a
disguise; for I look quite ugly, unless I happen to be in my smilings.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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