Andrew Golding - A Tale of the Great Plague by Annie E. Keeling
page 57 of 122 (46%)
page 57 of 122 (46%)
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first her eyes flashed angry fire, and then changed and softened, her
whole face and even her neck going rosy-red, and she said almost kindly,-- 'I will give you no such assurance, sir, to hold you in vain hopes; but I wish you a happier fate than marriage with me might prove.' With that she was gone from the room, like a shadow; and Mr. Poole and I were left foolishly staring at each other. Presently he said hoarsely,-- 'Who is it that your sister loves, madam? for whom does she disdain me? Sure,' he went on, with growing heat, 'it cannot be your cousin--he that is infected with the Quaker heresy! say it is not he, madam.' Well, I was tempted to lie, and say it was not our cousin; for Andrew was nothing akin to us; but I resisted the tempter, and said I could say nothing, but that I was heartily sorry,--'and I am sure, so is my sister,' I said, 'that you should have fixed your affections so unluckily.' Then I told him Andrew had no thoughts of marriage with Althea or any one; and I reminded him of the many rich and fair women who would be sure to look kindly on him; at which he smiled again, and presently went away in no unfriendly mood. So I acquit him of meaning the harm which he afterwards did us, poor youth, with his prattling tongue. He did not wait long for his promotion, the poor man whom he hoped to succeed dying indeed of the fever that had seized him; so we lost our curate. But it seems he prated to his patron about the fair young lady he had hoped should share his preferment, lamenting her silliness in preferring a moonstruck Quaker youth; also he complained of Mrs. Golding for not discouraging such follies, and he even deplored Mr. Truelocke's obstinate heresies as to church discipline. |
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