The Hoyden by Mrs. (Margaret Wolfe Hamilton) Hungerford
page 31 of 563 (05%)
page 31 of 563 (05%)
|
lived in hourly fear of his wife, and had never dared to contradict
her on any subject, though he was a man of many inches, and she one of the smallest creatures on record. "True! true! _You_ knew him so well!" says Lady Rylton, hiding her eyes behind the web of a handkerchief she is holding. One tear would have reduced it to pulp. "And when he was----" She pauses. "Was dead?" says Margaret kindly, softly. "Oh, _don't,_ dear Margaret, _don't!"_ says Lady Rylton, with a tragical start. "That dreadful word! One should never mention death! It is so rude! He, your poor uncle--he _left_ us with the sweetest resignation on the 18th of February, 1887." "I never _saw_ such resignation," says Mrs. Bethune, with deep emphasis. She casts a glance at Margaret, who, however, refuses to have anything to do with it. But, for all that, Mrs. Bethune is clearly enjoying herself. She can never, indeed, refrain from sarcasm, even when her audience is unsympathetic. "Yes, yes; he was resigned," says Lady Rylton, pressing her handkerchief to her nose. "So much so, that one might almost think he was _glad_ to go," says Mrs. Bethune, nodding her head with beautiful sympathy. She is now shaking with suppressed laughter. |
|