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Wives and Daughters (Illustrated). Elizabeth Gaskell
Читать онлайн.Название Wives and Daughters (Illustrated)
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9788027241408
Автор произведения Elizabeth Gaskell
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
"She's very beautiful; that of course is understood when I say that this miniature does not come up to her for beauty."
"And besides?—Go on, please."
"What do you mean by 'besides'?"
"Oh! I suppose she's very clever and accomplished?"
That was not in the least what Molly wanted to ask; but it was difficult to word the vague vastness of her unspoken inquiry.
"She is clever naturally; she has picked up accomplishments. But she has such a charm about her, one forgets what she herself is in the halo that surrounds her. You ask me all this, Miss Gibson, and I answer truthfully; or else I should not entertain one young lady with my enthusiastic praises of another."
"I don't see why not," said Molly. "Besides, if you wouldn't do it in general, I think you ought to do it in my case; for you, perhaps, don't know, but she is coming to live with us when she leaves school, and we are very nearly the same age; so it will be almost like having a sister."
"She is to live with you, is she?" said Mr. Preston, to whom this intelligence was news. "And when is she to leave school? I thought she would surely have been at this wedding; but I was told she was not to come. When is she to leave school?"
"I think it is to be at Easter. You know she's at Boulogne, and it's a long journey for her to come alone; or else papa wished for her to be at the marriage very much indeed."
"And her mother prevented it?—I understand."
"No, it wasn't her mother; it was the French schoolmistress, who didn't think it desirable."
"It comes to pretty much the same thing. And she's to return and live with you after Easter?"
"I believe so. Is she a grave or a merry person?"
"Never very grave, as far as I have seen of her. Sparkling would be the word for her, I think. Do you ever write to her? If you do, pray remember me to her, and tell her how we have been talking about her—you and I."
"I never write to her," said Molly, rather shortly.
Tea came in; and after that they all went to bed. Molly heard her father exclaim at the fire in his bedroom, and Mr. Preston's reply—
"I pique myself on my keen relish for all creature comforts, and also on my power of doing without them, if need be. My lord's woods are ample, and I indulge myself with a fire in my bedroom for nine months in the year; yet I could travel in Iceland without wincing from the cold."
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