The Argosy — page 103: what you’re looking at

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ele The White Witch. Godfrey obeyed without a murmur. The young people left the room, and the elder ones sat smiling and nodding at each other. Mr. Mayne thought he had done something very clever; and that it was especially pleasing to his wife. ‘‘ If that does not overcome his objection to matrimony, I don’t know what will,” cried he, triumphantly. Unfortunately for their wishes, Godfrey’s momentary enthusiasm, at the transformation of the Elspeth of every day into a beauty of romance was just sufficiently damped by his father’s transparent generalship as to render that evening walk free from danger to him. It was a pleasant stroll enough, though, for both of them: for Godfrey, who thought how bewitchingly pretty a girl’s eyes look when the day- light is going, and when you have to bend your head to see her face clearly ; for Elspeth, mad to have a real lover, like those in the novels, which she and Matilda could only read by stealth, lest they should be seen by the Vicar. They walked up and down the paths, talking of nothing in particular, which was the sort of conversation at which Elspeth was best. They decided that the air was cool, that the grass was wet, that the roses were sweet and that she would havea redone. So Godfrey crossed the grass to the bed where the finest roses grew, gathered two and brought them to her, telling her to choose. So she chose one and he fastened it in her hair close to the lace, and resisted with a little difficulty the impulse to kiss her. ‘Then he said he would keep the second rose in memory of—this evening. There ensued a pause; and she, being modest and inexperienced, suggested that they should go in. And Godfrey, again resisting a temptation, said yes, they had better. So they went in, apart and self-possessed, and Mrs. Mayne’s face clearly fell at sight of them. ‘By Jove, I had a narrow escape, though,” was Godfrey’s last distinct reflection before sleeping. There was a grand flower-show at Cheston the following day. Unluckily a discourse on *‘ The Home Duties of Women” was to be given in a neighbouring parish on that day by a celebrated preacher ; and Mrs. Thornhill, who practised her duty to husband and children much better than the celebrated preacher’s wife, thought it incumbent upon her to go and hear him. Matilda and Elspeth were in despair. Of course the first day of the show was the only one on which they would appear at it; the suggestion that they should go on the second day was received by them with the scorn it deserved. “Why, the entrance is only a shilling, and there will be nothing but nursemaids,” moaned Elspeth. “And the flowers will all be dead,” said Matilda, as a happy thought, looking at her father. He felt rather sorry for them. Flowers were his hobby; and though he had a shrewd suspicion that the sudden enthusiasm of his daughters concerning them was not an unmixed passion, he allowed himself to be talked round into mildly protesting acquiescence when he Gomichbooks.co