"'Oh, wind!
If winter comes, can spring be far behind?'"
quoted Charlotte, as she stood watching the white cascades.
"It will be cuckoo time directly my dear; and the lambs will be bleating
on the fells, and the yellow primroses blowing under all the hedges. I
want to see the swallows take the storm on their wings badly this year.
Eh? What, Charlotte?"
"So do I, father. I never was so tired of the house before."
"There's a bit of a difference lately, I think. Eh? What?"
Charlotte looked at him; there was no need to speak. They both
understood and felt the full misery of household changes that are not
entirely happy ones; changes that bring unfaithfulness and ingratitude
on one side, and resentful, wounded love on the other. And the worst of
it all was, that it might have been so different. Why had the lovers set
themselves apart from the family, had secrets and consultations and
interests they refused to share? How had it happened that Sophia had
come to consider her welfare as apart from, and in opposition to, that
of the general welfare of Seat-Sandal? And when this feeling existed, it
seemed unjust to Charlotte that they should still expect the whole house
and household to be kept in turmoil for the furtherance of their plans,
and that every one should be made to contribute to their happiness.
"After all, maybe it is a bit natural," said the squire with a sad air
of apology.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146