England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Villages -- England -- Fiction
Mr Mannering looked up with a little surprise; for although his brother
frequently indulged in cynical speeches, he had never yet known him to
believe in them, or take anything but a largely hopeful view of
individualised human nature.
"My dear Robert--would you object to shutting the door?--"
"I beg your pardon," said Mr Robert hastily, doing as he was requested
with an abstracted bang, which made Mr Mannering wince. But he went
on.
"Look calmly at the matter. What do we know of the contents of that
letter? How is it possible to judge of the terms in which the
suggestion was made?--of the burden it may have inflicted upon Anthony?"
"That is not the question," said his brother, shaking his head. "He
denies, you must remember, having received any suggestion whatever.
Pooh, the thing's absurd. Besides, young Lee seems to have implied that
he was aware of what had taken place."
Sometimes they are odd things which warp our judgments. Robert
Mannering was an old lawyer, with a red face and short iron-grey hair,
and yet it took a very little thing to turn aside his shrewd every-day
sense. Only a woman's name, and a curl of brown hair out of which the
living light had faded.
"I have said all I can for him to the Squire," he went on. "We shall
see when he comes back. But--"
He walked to the window, and stood with his hands behind him, looking
out. There was a threatening of snow in the air, and a few solitary
flakes, the more dismal for their want of companionship, came fluttering
down upon the empty beds. That "but" sounded like the key-note of all
dreary disbelief.
"Nobody can tell," said Mr Mannering, who usually took a more
desponding view of human nature than his brother. "My own opinion is
that you are all deciding hastily, but with the wind where it is, I
don't believe there's a man alive could give an unprejudiced judgment.
As to these hot-water pipes, Jane contrives to convert them into
conductors of cold air, with an ingenuity worthy of a better cause."
"The room is like a hot-house," said Mr Robert, a little shortly, and
still keeping his back turned. "That fool Stokes has not had the sense
to mat up the red geranium. He'll have got rid of every flower in the
garden before long, that's certain. Commend me to this place for
incapable idiots."
While he spoke, Mr Mannering with great care and deliberation proceeded
to fold a handkerchief, and to tie it round his head, thus imparting an
extraordinarily rueful expression to his face.
"Yates tells me they're going to push the Bill for connecting the two
lines," he said, fastening the knot.
"So I supposed. Nothing is too fraudulent for me to discredit, and I'm
quite aware that you may pick as many pockets as you please, if only you
do it on a large enough scale."
"Come, come, Robert. You'll be had up for a libel."
"I dare say. There's no bigger libel than truth in these days."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account