Complete Short Works of George Meredith

am worthy to be, on some august future occasion-possibly-a member (Oh, so much to mumble!) of this great family. Had I known it when I was leaving home, I should have

to suit that person. I am a ninny, an ape, and mind I call myself these bad things because I deserve worse. I am flighty, I believe I am heartless. Charles is away, and I suffer no pangs. The truth is, I fancied myself so excee

ns. For my part, I know that I shall always hate Mrs. Romer Pattlecombe, and that I am unjust to the good woman, but I do hate her, and I think the stories shocking, and wonder intensely what it was that I could have found in them to laugh at. I shall never laugh again for many years. P

as halfpast seven-and I saw Mr. Pollingray's groom on horseback, leading up and down the walk a darling little, round, plump, black cob that

im officially, begs his goddaughter to accept the accompanying little animal: height 14

ss them. They show their pleasure so at being petted. They curve their necks, and paw, and look proud. They take your flattery like sunshine and are lovely in it. I kissed my beauty, peering at his black-mottled skin, which i

y to wear any sort. I would have ridden as a guy rather than not ride at all. But mama gave me a promise that in two days a riding-habit should be sent on to Dayton, and I had to let my pet be led back from where he came. I had no life till

could not suppose such selfishness in one so generous as Mr. Pollingray. But I came to Dayton in a state of arrogant pride, that gave assurance if not ease to my

s me a fo

after me. I hope we shall

y, and his bow inflated me wi

eth he calls her) looked half sad, I read

creation led over the house by Mr. Polli

of pictures,

n to see the m

hough I were to st

ave that o

more than I

ntelligence on such

w struck me in this remark

not share his three great-grandsons' veneration for him. There are high fir-woods and beech woods, and a long ascending narrow meadow between them, through which a brook falls in continual cascades. It is the sort of scen

ke to it now?' sa

on of face must ha

ecline such a residence in

as he spoke, and I felt like

was polished brass. My self-possession returned,

; and there I was at home. There I saw my Pri

me already

es in advance of me,'

ity like this by which I am invited to be analysed at leisure, is both mean and base. I have been kindl

t three at table, but there was no lack of entertainment. Mr. Pollingray is an admirable host; he talks just enough himself and helps you to talk. What does comfort me is that it gives him real pleasure to see a hearty appetite. Young men, I know it for a certainty, never quite like us to be so human. Ah! which is right? I would not miss the faith in our nobler

ce to his sister. If young men had these good habits they wou

lked to me of her brother, and of her nephew-for whom it is that Mr. Pollingray is beginning to receive company, and is goin

nce. All his associations, I may say his sympathies, are in France. Latterly he seems to have changed a little; but from Norma

wing, faintly coloured with chalks, of a foreign lady-I could have sworn to

s she not?' said

d Miss Pollingray, seeing my curiosity, w

see other portraits of her in the house. This is the most youthful of

and scattered my sleep; but by and by my thoughts reverted to Mr. Pollingray, and then like sympathetic ink held to the heat, I beheld her again; but vividly, as she must have been when she was sitting to the artist. The hair was naturally crisped, waving thrice over the forehead and brushed clean from the temples, showing the small ears, and tied in a knot loosely behind. Her eyebrows were thick and dark, but soft; flowing eyebrows; far lovelier, to my thinking, than any pencilled arch. Dark eyes, and full, not prominent. I find little expression of inward sentiment in very prominent eyes. On the con

nd dreame

Gilbert,' to Mr. Pollingray. Had he ever said: 'Ma chere Louise?'

ived in him now a youthfulness beyond mere vigour of frame. I could not detach him from my dreams of the night. He in

ngratulate you on your having ha

akfast, the opportunity or rather the excuse for an attempt, was offered. His French valet, Francois, waits on him at breakfast. Mr. Pollingr

ered. Allons, nous parlerons francais,' said he. B

eve now that a residence in France does not deteriorate an Englishman. Mr. Pollingray, when in his own house, has the best qualities of the two countries. He is gay, and, yes, while he makes a study of me, I am making a study of him. Which of us two will know the other first? He was papa's college friend-papa's junio

Miss Pollingray, with the intimation

ses, really settled among them,' she remarked to me. 'At his time of life, the desire to be useful i

sionally French in the con

e with her, I was not rebuffed by her sm

hat is the story of her relations towards Mr. Pollingray? There must be some story. He would not surely have so many portraits of her about the house (and they travel with him wherever he goes) if she were but a lovely face to him. I cannot understand it. They were frequent, constant visitors to one another's estates in France;

as he calls it. Yet he never could have had a duller companion. My conversation was all yes and no, as if it went on a pair of crutches like a miserable cripple. I was humiliated and vexed. All the while I was trying to lead up to the French lady, and I could not commence with a single question. He appears to, have really cancelled the past in every respect save his calling me his goddaughter. His talk was of the English poor, and vegetation, and papa's goodness to his old dames in Icklewo

s but three years her junior, should look at least twenty years younger-at the very least. His moustache and beard are of the colour of a corn sheaf, and his blue eyes shining over them remind me of summer. That describes him. He is summer, and has not fallen into his autumn yet. Miss Pollingray helped me to talk a little. She tried

and wrote till one o'clock. In all, fifteen pages of writing, which I carefully folded and addressed to Charles; sealed the envelope, stamped it, and destroyed it. I went to bed. 'No, I won't ride out to-day, I have a headache!' I repeated this about half-a-dozen times to nobody's knocking on the door, and when at last somebody knocked I tried to repea

I shall rema

eplying that persons ought to know themselves best: 'At my age, perhaps,' he

be nothing better than

apprenticeship to the habit

mon pa

My French,

f he wanted to study

when I choose, but it

ng for something to follow, in explanation, and on coming to sift my

ve such wonderful command of the

isappoint us. We expec

egin, but I soon ride out a bad temper. And he is mine! I am certainly inconstant to Charles, for I think of Leboo fifty times more. Besides, there is no engagement as yet between Charles and me. I have first to be approved worthy by Mr. and Miss Pollingray: two pairs of eyes and ears, over which I see a solemnly downy owl sitting, conning their reports of me. It is a very unkind ordeal to subject any inexperienced young woman to. It was harshly conceived and it is being remorselessly e