Trollope_Orley_Farm.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
would have been less
free with him.
" would like it best if you would give up your writing, and think
of nothing but the law," she said to him. answer to which he told
her, with many compliments to the special fox in question, that story
of the fox who had lost his tail and thought it well that other foxes
should dress themselves as he was dressed.
" any rate papa looks very well without his tail," said
with somewhat of a daughter's pride. " you shall wear yours all
the same, if you like it," she added with much of a young maiden's
love.
they were thus walking near the house on the afternoon of the
third or fourth day after the trial, one of the maids came to them
and told that a gentleman was in the house who wished to see
her.
" gentleman!" said .
". , miss. lady told me to ask you up if you were anywhere
near."
" suppose must go," said , from whom all her pretty
freedom of manner and light happiness of face departed on the moment.
had told everything as to poor in return for that
story of his respecting . her it seemed as though that
had made things equal between them,--for she was too generous to
observe that though she had given nothing to her other lover,
had been engaged for many months to marry his other love. girls,
think, have no objection to this. do not desire first fruits,
or even early fruits, as men do. , am not sure whether
experience on the part of a gentleman in his use of his heart is not
supposed by most young ladies to enhance the value of the article.
was not in the least jealous of ; but with great
good nature promised to look after her, and patronise her when she
should have become . . " don't think should
like that . ," she said.
" would have mended the stockings for her all the same."
" yes, would have done that;--and so did . would
have kept my box locked. should never have seen my letters."
was now absolutely necessary that she should return to the house,
and say to what words of comfort might be possible for
her. she could have spoken simply with her heart, she would have
said much that was friendly, even though it might not be comfortable.
it was necessary that she should express herself in words, and
she felt that the task was very difficult. " you come in?" she
said to .
", think not. he's a splendid fellow, and to me was a stanch
friend. can catch him as he comes out will speak to him."
then , with hesitating steps, with her hat still on her
head, and her gloves on her hands, walked through the hall into the
drawing-room. she found her mother seated on the sofa, and
standing before her. walked up to him with
extended hand and a kindly welcome, though she felt that the colour
was high in her cheeks. course it would be impossible to come out
from such an interview as this without having confessed her position,
or hearing it confessed by her mother in her presence. , however,
had been already done, and knew that the prize was gone.
" do you do, ?" said he. " am going to leave
for a long time, have come over to say good-bye to
--and to you."
" you going away, . ?"
", shall go abroad,--to , think. seems a wild
sort of place with plenty of animals to kill."
" isn't it very dangerous?"
", don't think so. people always come back alive. 've a sort
of idea that nothing will kill me. any rate couldn't stay here."
", dear, 've told . that you have accepted .
. a friend such as he is know that you will not be
anxious to keep this a secret."
", mamma."
" was sure of that; and now that your papa has consented to it, and
that it is quite fixed, am sure that it is better that he should
know it. shall always look upon him as a very dear friend--if he
will allow us."
it was necessary that should speak, which he did as
follows, holding 's hand for the first three or four seconds
of the time:--" , will say this of myself, that if ever
a fellow loved a girl truly, loved you;--and do so now as well or
better than ever. is no good my pretending to be contented, and
all that sort of thing. am not contented, but very unhappy. have
never wished for but one thing in my life; and for that would have
given all that have in the world. know that cannot have it, and
that am not fit to have it."
", . , it is not that."
" it is that. knew you before did, and loved you quite
as soon. believe--though of course don't mean to ask any
questions--but believe told you so before he ever did."
", they say, are planned in heaven," said .
" they are. only wish this one had not been planned there.
cannot help it,-- cannot express my satisfaction, though will
heartily wish for your happiness. knew from the first how it would
be, and was always sure that was a fool to love you. should have
gone away when first thought of it, for used to feel that you
never cared to speak to me."
", indeed did," said poor .
", you did not. why should you when had nothing to say for
myself? ought to have fallen in love with some foolish chit with as
little wit about her as have myself."
" hope you will fall in love with some very nice girl," said
; "and that we shall know her and love her very much."
", dare say shall marry some day. feel now as though should
like to break my neck, but don't suppose shall. -bye,
."
"-bye, . ; and may send that you may be happy."
"-bye, . shall never call you so again,--except to
myself. do wish you may be happy,-- do indeed. for him,--he has
been before me, and taken away all that wanted to win."
this time the tears were in his eyes, and his voice was not free
from their effect. this he was aware, and therefore, pressing her
hand, he turned upon his heel and abruptly left the room. had been
unable to say that he wished also that might be happy; but this
omission was forgiven him by both the ladies. , as he
went, muttered a kind farewell, but her tears had mastered her also,
so that she could hardly speak.
went directly to the stables, there got upon his horse, and then
walked slowly down the avenue towards the gate. had got the better
of that tear-compelling softness as soon as he found himself beyond
the presence of the girl he loved, and was now stern in his mood,
striving to harden his heart. had confessed himself a fool in
comparison with ; but yet,--he asked himself,--in spite
of that, was it not possible that he would have made her a better
husband than the other? was not to his title or his estate that he
trusted as he so thought, but to a feeling that he was more akin to
her in circumstances, in ways of life, and in tenderness of heart.
all this was passing through his mind, presented himself
to him in the road.
"," said he, " heard that you were in the house, and have come
to shake hands with you. suppose you have heard what has taken
place. you not shake hands with me?"
"," said , " will not."
" am sorry for that, for we were good friends, and owe you much
for your kindness. was a fair stand-up fight, and you should not
be angry."
" am angry, and don't want your friendship. and tell her that
say so, if you like."
", will not do that."
" wish with all my heart that we had both killed ourselves at that
bank."
" shame, , for shame!"
" well, sir; let it be for shame." then he passed on, meaning
to go through the gate, and leaving on the grass by the
road-side. before he had gone a hundred yards down the road his
better feelings came back upon him, and he returned.
" am unhappy," he said, "and sore at heart. must not mind what
words spoke just now."
", no; am sure you did not mean them," said , putting his
hand on the horse's mane.
" did mean them then, but do not mean them now. won't say
anything about wishes. course you will be happy with her.
would be happy with her. suppose you won't die, and give a fellow
another chance."
" if can help it," said .
", if you are to live, don't wish you any evil. do wish you
hadn't come to , that's all. -bye to you." he held
out his hand, which took.
" shall be good friends yet, for all that is come and gone," said
; and then there were no more words between them.
did as he said, and went abroad, extending his travels to
many wild countries, in which, as he used to say, any one else would
have been in danger. danger ever came to him,--so at least he
frequently wrote word to his mother. he slew by scores,
lions by hundreds, and elephants sufficient for an ivory palace.
skins, and bones, and other trophies, he sent home in various ships;
and when he appeared in as a lion, no man doubted his word.
then he did not write a book, nor even give lectures; nor did he
presume to know much about the huge brutes he had slain, except that
they were pervious to powder and ball.
had endeavoured to keep him at home by giving up the
property into his hands; but neither for grandfather, nor for mother,
nor for lands and money would he remain in the neighbourhood of
. ", mother," he said; "it will be better for me to be
away." away he went.
old baronet lived to see him return, though with plaintive wail
he often declared to his daughter-in-law that this was impossible.
lived, but he never returned to that living life which had been his
before he had taken up the battle for . would sometimes
allow . to drive him about the grounds, but otherwise he
remained in the house, sitting solitary over his fire,--with a
book, indeed, open before him, but rarely reading. was waiting
patiently, as he said, till death should come to him.
. kept her promise, and wrote constantly to
,--hearing from her as constantly. had been six
months in , he decided on going to , leaving his
mother for the present in the little town in which they were
staying. her, on the whole, the change was for the better.
to his success in a thriving colony, there can be but little doubt.
was soon married to ; and as yet have not
heard of any banishment either to or to -.
now may say, .