From the Park, Dr. Osborne had driven his very decorous little
four-wheeler to Woolgreaves, the residence of the Creswells, his other
great patients, and there he had given a modified version of his
story, with a very much modified result. For old Mr. Creswell was away
in France, and neither of the two young ladies was of an age to feel
much sympathy, unless with their intimate relations, and they had been
educated abroad, and seen but little of the Helmingham folk; and as
for Tom Creswell, he was the imp of the school, having all Sam Baker's
love of mischief without any of his good heart, and would not have
oared who was ill or who died, provided illness or death afforded
occasion for slacking work and making holiday. Every one else in the
parish was grieved at the news. The rector--bland, polished, and well
endowed with worldly goods--had been most actively compassionate
towards his less fortunate brother; the farmers, who looked upon
"Master Ashurst" as a marvel of book-learning, the labourers, who had
consented to the removal of the village sports, held from time
immemorial on the village green, to a remote meadow, whence the noise
could not penetrate to the sick man's room, and who had considerately
lowered the matter as well as the manner of their singing as they
passed the schoolhouse at night in jovial chorus--all these people
pitied the old man dying, and the old wife whom he would leave behind.
They did not say much about the daughter; when they referred to her it
was generally to the effect that she would manage tolerably well for
herself, for "she were a right plucked un, Miss Marian were."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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