The Way We Live Now Anthony Trollope (classic books for 11 year olds .txt) 📖

flirtation, in the course of which the elder daughter had made a foolish and a futile attempt to run away with an officer of dragoons whose private fortune was very moderate. Ten years had passed since that, and the affair was never alluded to except in moments of great bitterness.

“I’ve kept myself as straight as you have,” said Sophia. “It’s easy enough to be straight, when a person never cares for anybody, and nobody cares for a person.”

“My dears, if you quarrel what am I to do?” said their mother.

“It is I that have to suffer,” continued Georgiana. “Does he expect me to find anybody here that I could take? Poor George Whitstable is not much; but there is nobody else at all.”

“You may have him if you like,” said Sophia, with a chuck of her head.

“Thank you, my dear, but I shouldn’t like it at all. I haven’t come to that quite yet.”

“You were talking of running away with somebody.”

“I shan’t run away with George Whitstable; you may be sure of that. I’ll tell you what I shall do⁠—I will write papa a letter. I suppose he’ll condescend to read it. If he won’t take me up to town himself, he must send me up to the Primeros. What makes me most angry in the whole thing is that we should have condescended to be civil to the Melmottes down in the country. In London one does those things, but to have them here was terrible!”

During that entire afternoon nothing more was said. Not a word passed between them on any subject beyond those required by the necessities of life. Georgiana had been as hard to her sister as to her father, and Sophia in her quiet way resented the affront. She was now almost reconciled to the sojourn in the country, because it inflicted a fitting punishment on Georgiana, and the presence of Mr. Whitstable at a distance of not more than ten miles did of course make a difference to herself. Lady Pomona complained of a headache, which was always an excuse with her for not speaking;⁠—and Mr. Longestaffe went to sleep. Georgiana during the whole afternoon remained apart, and on the next morning the head of the family found the following letter on his dressing-table;⁠—

My dear Papa⁠—

I don’t think you ought to be surprised because we feel that our going up to town is so very important to us. If we are not to be in London at this time of the year we can never see anybody, and of course you know what that must mean for me. If this goes on about Sophia, it does not signify for her, and, though mamma likes London, it is not of real importance. But it is very, very hard upon me. It isn’t for pleasure that I want to go up. There isn’t so very much pleasure in it. But if I’m to be buried down here at Caversham, I might just as well be dead at once. If you choose to give up both houses for a year, or for two years, and take us all abroad, I should not grumble in the least. There are very nice people to be met abroad, and perhaps things go easier that way than in town. And there would be nothing for horses, and we could dress very cheap and wear our old things. I’m sure I don’t want to run up bills. But if you would only think what Caversham must be to me, without anyone worth thinking about within twenty miles, you would hardly ask me to stay here.

You certainly did say that if we would come down here with those Melmottes we should be taken back to town, and you cannot be surprised that we should be disappointed when we are told that we are to be kept here after that. It makes me feel that life is so hard that I can’t bear it. I see other girls having such chances when I have none, that sometimes I think I don’t know what will happen to me.

This was the nearest approach which she dared to make in writing to that threat which she had uttered to her mother of running away with somebody.

I suppose that now it is useless for me to ask you to take us all back this summer⁠—though it was promised; but I hope you’ll give me money to go up to the Primeros. It would only be me and my maid. Julia Primero asked me to stay with them when you first talked of not going up, and I should not in the least object to reminding her, only it should be done at once. Their house in Queen’s Gate is very large, and I know they’ve a room. They all ride, and I should want a horse; but there would be nothing else, as they have plenty of carriages, and the groom who rides with Julia would do for both of us. Pray answer this at once, papa.

Your affectionate daughter,

Georgiana Longestaffe.

Mr. Longestaffe did condescend to read the letter. He, though he had rebuked his mutinous daughter with stern severity, was also to some extent afraid of her. At a sudden burst he could stand upon his authority, and assume his position with parental dignity; but not the less did he dread the wearing toil of continued domestic strife. He thought that upon the whole his daughter liked a row in the house. If not, there surely would not be so many rows. He himself thoroughly hated them. He had not any very lively interest in life. He did not read much; he did not talk much; he was not specially fond of eating and drinking; he did not gamble, and he did not care for the farm. To stand about the door and hall and public rooms of the clubs to which he belonged and hear other men talk politics or scandal, was what he liked better