The Soldier's Wife — page 52: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE SOLDIER'S WIFE 39 Redburn’s words had touched a painful chord!|and disgust: then, as he fell hack astounded, ip her heart. she quitted the room, ¢losing she door behind “Yes—I think of going into the Army,” he|her. resumed. “It’s such precious slow work living} ‘‘What’s the matter, Lucy?” inquired her down here in the country—although if I had|father, whom she encountered in the passage, enjoyed the pleasure of your acquaintance morejand who had purposely been a long while in than I have done, perhaps I should not have|fetching the cider. been either so dull at times or else in such a| “The next time that you bring Mr. Redburn hurry to 'eave.” home,” was Lucy’s firm and indignant response, This was intended asa compliment; and the|“I shall insist upon retiring to my own cham- affected youth flung a tender look upon the|ber.” 7 aamsel as he spoke: but his words and his| “By God! I will show you,” muttered Da- glance only conjured up another indignant|vis, with horrible rage, and speaking through blush to her cheeks, and this time Redburn|his set teeth, “who is the master here ?’—and eould aot but perceive there was anger in her|the look that he fixed upon his daughter was Jooks. for an instant diabolically savage in its expres- “T hope I said nothing to offend,” he hastened |sion. to observe. “I am sure I didn’t mean it. She paused not to make any rejly, but hur- Whiy, you and J, Miss Davis, have known eachjried up to her own chamber, where she burst other from infancy; and when we were little|into tears. ehild.a. I used to call you Lucy, and you ealled me Gerald.” Davis re-entered the parlor; and as he placed the bottle and glasses upon the table, he ob- “But we are no longer children, sir,’ replied|served with a smile which was intended to the bailiff’s daughter, coldly and pointedly. assure Gerald that he was not angry, ‘“ Lucy “ At all events we have known each other|has left you, then ?” too long for you to take offence at any little compliment I may pay you.” “Why, to tell you the truth,” repled the young gentleman, “she flew into a tiff at some- “T detest flatteries, sir—and always mistrust|thing I said—but I am sure I did not mean to flatterers,” rejoined Lucy, proudly glacial. For a moment Gerald Redburn felt angry, offend her.” “Tam quite certain you did not,” interjected and was half-inclined to start up and leave the] Davis. house. But he recollected that many of the conquests he had achieved at the University, and also in London, had been preceded by a|people. “T merely paid her some little compliment. ’ “To be sure—natural enough between young She’s a very fine girl, Mr. Redburn— shyness and coyness similar to what he nowja very handsome girl—and I am naturally perceived on the part of Lucy; and he there-|proud of her.” fore retained his seat and mastered his rising wrath. “There are two kinds of flatterers, Miss Davis,” he proceeded to observe: “those who do not mean what they say—and those who do. In the former case the objects flattered may not be worthy of the flattery; but in the latter case they are—when it ceases to be flat- tery and becomes a delicate and well-deserved | flattered. compliment.” “And well you may be,” rejoined Gerald, delighted to perceive that the father did not take the daughter’s part. ‘I am sure that it was in a perfectly courteous manner I offered to accompany her for a ttle walk of an even- ing.” “It was very kind of you,” said Davis; “and she ought to have felt herself honored and It isn’t as if yeu were strangers to each other; but you have been acquainted “But such compliments themselves, even if|from childhood.” well meant, may be particularly distasteful,” “That's just what I told her,” observed replied Lucy, in a manner which showed|Gerald, as much astonished as pleased to see that she was emphatically alluding to the|how completely the father’s views on the sub- present case—or at all events in a manner| ject coincided with his own. “We used to which ought to have convinced Redburn that|call each other by our Christian names—— it was so, were he not too vain and conceited to see anything at all humiliating to himself. “T wonder that you do not walk out more this beautiful weather,” he said, now going upon another tack. “The evenings are quite de- lightful; and if you would permit me, I should be so happy to escort you fora ramble through the fields. Of course the old veople up at the Manor needn't know anything about it——’” “Mr. Redburn, I am surprised at you!” ex- claimed Lucy, her cheeks now becoming crim- son with indignation: and she moved towards the door. “By heaven, how touchy you are!” he cried, springing from his seat and catching her by the arm. “| didn’t mean to offend you ‘ -“Unhand me, sir!” cried the damsel proud- ly—and she threw "1pon him a look of aversion “To be sure. sir?” “Tt’s excellent But I really hope that your daughter won’t think I meant to insult her#” “ Not she, the silly puss! It’s only her coy- ness.” “Well, I will be hanged if I didn’t think so, Down, Neptune—dquiet, Ponto!” “You see, Mr. Redburn,” continued Davis, drawing his chair nearer, and assuming a grave look, “Lucy has been well brought up. Her mother, you know, sir, was a lady—a perfect lady—a lady by birth, and education, and manners; and so Lucy is not one of your ordi- nary village-maidens. ‘Though I say it who shouldn’t she’s as genteel and lady-like as any nobleman’s or gentleman’s daughter in the whole county.” How do you like this cider, GOMiGooo 2 <SuGO