The Widow Barnaby. Vol. 2 (of 3)Trollope, Frances Milton
General
The Widow Barnaby. Vol. 2 (of 3)
Trollope, Frances Milton
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Social classes -- England -- Fiction; Widows -- Fiction
The Major was immediately on the alert, and seizing on the tea-pot
seized the hand of Agnes with it. Neck, cheeks, and brow were crimson in
an instant; and as she withdrew her hand from his audacious touch, her
eye caught that of Colonel Hubert fixed upon her. Shame, vexation, and
something almost approaching to terror, brought tears into that
beautiful eye, and for a moment the gallant soldier forgot everything in
an ardent longing to seize by the collar and fling from the chamber the
man who had thus dared to offend her. But Frederick Stephenson, who also
saw the action, quitted the side of his partner, contrary to all the
laws of etiquette, and quickly placing himself beside Agnes, bestowed
such a glance on the Major as immediately turned the attention of that
judicious personage to the tea-pot and Mrs. Barnaby.
"You dance with me now, Miss Willoughby," said young Stephenson, which,
as he had enjoyed that honour twice before, he had been too discreet to
hint at till the arrival of the widow and the Major had rendered her
being immediately occupied so particularly desirable. Agnes perfectly
understood his motive, and though her cheeks again tingled as she
remembered how impossible it was for her to run effectually from the
annoyance that so cruelly beset her, she felt touched and grateful for
his kindness; and the smile with which she accepted it, would have
sufficed to subdue the heart of Frederick had an atom of it been
unsubdued before.
CHAPTER III.
MELANCHOLY MEDITATIONS.--AN EVENTFUL WALK.--A PLEASANT BREAKFAST.--A
COMFORTABLE CONVERSATION IN A CLOSET.
The slumbers of Agnes that night were not heavy, for she waked while the
birds were still singing their morning hymn to the sun, which poured its
beams full upon her face through her uncurtained window. She turned
restlessly upon her little bed, and tried to sleep again; but it would
not do; and as she listened to the twittering without, so strong a
desire seized her to leave the narrow boundary of her little closet, and
breathe the air of heaven, that after the hesitation and struggle of a
few moments she yielded, and noiselessly creeping out of bed, and
performing the business of her toilet with the greatest caution,
ventured to open the door communicating with her aunt's chamber, when
she had the great satisfaction of hearing her snore loud enough to mask
any sound she might herself make in passing through the room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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