Shirley Charlotte BrontĂ« (free ebook reader for pc .txt) đ
- Author: Charlotte Brontë
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Plain as it was, it seemed to satisfy Malone, who, when he had removed and hung up his wet surtout and hat, drew one of the rheumatic-looking chairs to the hearth, and set his knees almost within the bars of the red grate.
âComfortable quarters you have here, Mr. Moore; and all snug to yourself.â
âYes, but my sister would be glad to see you, if you would prefer stepping into the house.â
âOh no! The ladies are best alone, I never was a ladyâs man. You donât mistake me for my friend Sweeting, do you, Mr. Moore?â
âSweeting! Which of them is that? The gentleman in the chocolate overcoat, or the little gentleman?â
âThe little oneâ âhe of Nunnely; the cavalier of the Misses Sykes, with the whole six of whom he is in love, ha! ha!â
âBetter be generally in love with all than specially with one, I should think, in that quarter.â
âBut he is specially in love with one besides, for when I and Donne urged him to make a choice amongst the fair bevy, he namedâ âwhich do you think?â
With a queer, quiet smile Mr. Moore replied, âDora, of course, or Harriet.â
âHa! ha! youâve an excellent guess. But what made you hit on those two?â
âBecause they are the tallest, the handsomest, and Dora, at least, is the stoutest; and as your friend Mr. Sweeting is but a little slight figure, I concluded that, according to a frequent rule in such cases, he preferred his contrast.â
âYou are right; Dora it is. But he has no chance, has he, Moore?â
âWhat has Mr. Sweeting besides his curacy?â
This question seemed to tickle Malone amazingly. He laughed for full three minutes before he answered it.
âWhat has Sweeting? Why, David has his harp, or flute, which comes to the same thing. He has a sort of pinchbeck watch; ditto, ring; ditto, eyeglass. Thatâs what he has.â
âHow would he propose to keep Miss Sykes in gowns only?â
âHa! ha! Excellent! Iâll ask him that next time I see him. Iâll roast him for his presumption. But no doubt he expects old Christopher Sykes would do something handsome. He is rich, is he not? They live in a large house.â
âSykes carries on an extensive concern.â
âTherefore he must be wealthy, eh?â
âTherefore he must have plenty to do with his wealth, and in these times would be about as likely to think of drawing money from the business to give dowries to his daughters as I should be to dream of pulling down the cottage there, and constructing on its ruins a house as large as Fieldhead.â
âDo you know what I heard, Moore, the other day?â
âNo. Perhaps that I was about to effect some such change. Your Briarfield gossips are capable of saying that or sillier things.â
âThat you were going to take Fieldhead on a lease (I thought it looked a dismal place, by the by, tonight, as I passed it), and that it was your intention to settle a Miss Sykes there as mistressâ âto be married, in short, ha! ha! Now, which is it? Dora, I am sure. You said she was the handsomest.â
âI wonder how often it has been settled that I was to be married since I came to Briarfield. They have assigned me every marriageable single woman by turns in the district. Now it was the two Misses Wynnsâ âfirst the dark, then the light one; now the red-haired Miss Armitage; then the mature Ann Pearson. At present you throw on my shoulders all the tribe of the Misses Sykes. On what grounds this gossip rests God knows. I visit nowhere; I seek female society about as assiduously as you do, Mr. Malone. If ever I go to Whinbury, it is only to give Sykes or Pearson a call in their countinghouse, where our discussions run on other topics than matrimony, and our thoughts are occupied with other things than courtships, establishments, dowries. The cloth we canât sell, the hands we canât employ, the mills we canât run, the perverse course of events generally, which we cannot alter, fill our hearts, I take it, pretty well at present, to the tolerably complete exclusion of such figments as lovemaking, etc.â
âI go along with you completely, Moore. If there is one notion I hate more than another, it is that of marriageâ âI mean marriage in the vulgar weak sense, as a mere matter of sentimentâ âtwo beggarly fools agreeing to unite their indigence by some fantastic tie of feeling. Humbug! But an advantageous connection, such as can be formed in consonance with dignity of views and permanency of solid interests, is not so badâ âeh?â
âNo,â responded Moore, in an absent manner. The subject seemed to have no interest for him; he did not pursue it. After sitting for some time gazing at the fire with a preoccupied air, he suddenly turned his head.
âHark!â said he. âDid you hear wheels?â
Rising, he went to the window, opened it, and listened. He soon closed it. âIt is only the sound of the wind rising,â he remarked, âand the rivulet a little swollen, rushing down the hollow. I expected those wagons at six; it is near nine now.â
âSeriously, do you suppose that the putting up of this new machinery will bring you into danger?â inquired Malone. âHelstone seems to think it will.â
âI only wish the machinesâ âthe framesâ âwere safe here, and lodged within the walls of this mill. Once put up, I defy the frame-breakers. Let them only pay me a visit and take the consequences. My mill is my castle.â
âOne despises such low scoundrels,â observed Malone, in a profound vein of reflection. âI almost wish a party would call upon you tonight; but the road seemed extremely quiet as I came along. I saw nothing astir.â
âYou came by the Redhouse?â
âYes.â
âThere would be nothing on that road. It is in the direction of Stilbroâ the risk lies.â
âAnd
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