Wives and Widows; or, The Broken Life. Ann S. Stephens
Mrs. Dennison on the foot of the terrace-steps, and, without pausing to give an invitation, ran into the house.
I left the balcony and went up to her chamber. She was walking to and fro in the room, with a quick, proud step, the tears sparkling in her eyes.
"What is it?" I said, going up to where she stood, and kissing her. "Who has wounded you?"
"No one," she answered, and the proud tears flashed down to her cheek, and lay there like rain-drops hanging on the leaves of the wild rose—"no one. Only, only—"
"Well, dear?"
"You were right, Aunt Matty. That man really had just the feelings you suspected; I could hardly prevent him from expressing them broadly. Keep as close to papa as I would, he found means to say things that made my blood burn. What right has any man to talk of love to a girl, until she has given him some sort of encouragement, I should like to know?"
"But perhaps he fancies that you have given him a little encouragement."
"Encouragement! I? Indeed, Aunt Matty, I never dreamed of this until now!"
"I am sure of it; but then you allowed him to join your rides, and seemed rather pleased."
"Why, the idea that he meant anything never entered my mind. Ah! Aunt Matty, haven't we said a thousand times that there must be some blame, some coquetry on the lady's part, before a man, whom she is sure to reject, could presume to offer himself?"
"But has he gone so far as that?" I asked.
"Let me think. Alas! I was so confused, so angry, that it is impossible to remember just what he did say."
"But your answer?"
"Why, as to that," she cried, with a little nervous laugh, "I gave Flash a cut with the whip and dashed on after the rest. Aunt Matty, upon my word, I doubt if I spoke at all."
"My dear child, he may half imagine himself accepted then."
"Accepted! What can you mean?" she exclaimed, grasping her whip with both hands and bending it double. "I shall go wild if you say that."
"Why, do you dislike him so much?"
"Dislike! no. What is there to dislike about him?"
"Well, then," I said, a little mischievously, "he is rather good-looking, well educated, of irreproachable family, and rich."
"Don't, don't, Aunt Matty, or I shall hate you."
"Not quite so bad as that," I cried, kissing her hot cheek. "Now, let us be serious. All young ladies must expect offers of this kind."
"But I don't want them. It distresses me."
I saw that she was in earnest, and that young Bosworth's attentions had really distressed her. So, drawing her to a sofa, we sat down and talked the matter over more quietly.
I told her that it was useless annoying herself; that, until the young gentleman spoke out more definitely, she had nothing to torment herself about; and when he did, a few quiet words would settle the whole matter.
"But can't we prevent him saying anything more? Or, if he does, will you just tell him how it is?" she said, anxiously.
I could not help smiling; there was no affectation here. I knew very well that Jessie would give the world to avoid this refusal; but in such cases young ladies must take their own responsibilities: the interference of third parties can only produce mischief.
She began to see the thing in its true light after a little, and talked it over more calmly. Many a girl would have been delighted with this homage to her charms; but Jessie was no common person, and she felt a sort of degradation in inspiring a passion she could not return. Besides, it placed upon her the necessity of giving pain where it was in every way undeserved; and that she had never done in her life.
While we were talking, a light knock at the door heralded Mrs. Dennison. There was nothing to call her to that part of the house, and her first words conveyed an apology for the intrusion, for we both probably looked a little surprised.
"I beg ten thousand pardons for rushing in upon you; but the gentlemen are waiting in the road to know if they can join us to-morrow. I could only answer for myself, you know."
"Let them join you," I whispered; "the sooner it is over with the better."
Jessie stood up, gathered the long riding-skirt in one hand, while she walked past her guest with the air of a princess, and stepped out on the balcony, from which she made a gesture of invitation, which the two gentlemen acknowledged with profound bows, and rode away.
"That's an angel!" exclaimed Mrs. Dennison, laying her hand on Jessie's shoulder. "I almost thought something had gone wrong, by the way you left us. Poor Mr. Bosworth was quite crestfallen."
Jessie made a little gesture of annoyance, which the widow was quick to observe, and instantly changed the subject.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.