Sink or Swim? , Volume III by Matilda Charlotte Houstoun

Read "Sink or Swim? , Volume III" by Matilda Charlotte Houstoun online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.

"A gentleman, please, miss, as wants to see you."

Such was the announcement, on the morning succeeding Honor's instalment / in her new abode, of the fastidious Arthur Vavasour's visit to that very / untempting "bower of beauty."

It was nearly noon, an early hour for _him_ to be abroad; but to / Honor -- who had passed a sleepless night, and who had been up and about / for ages, as it seemed to her -- the day appeared to be already well-nigh / spent; while as regarded him, and her chance of seeing him in her / wretched home, she had begun almost to despair of any such blissful, and / now apparently improbable, event. When he _did_ appear therefore, when / her hand was clasped in his, and when his kind voice whispered softly, / "I could not come before, dear; and now I _am_ come, what a place I / find you in! " her heart went forth with grateful joy to meet him, for / she felt no longer unprotected and alone.

"And so they have been ill-using you, you poor little thing? " he went on / softly, her hand still in his, as they sat side by side on what Mrs. / Casey called the couch. "I guessed how it would be; I did not like the / way he looked when he took you away that night."

"O, but it isn't John -- _indeed_ it isn't! " Honor said eagerly, her sense / of justice roused to defend her husband; "it was his mother, as I told / you, who behaved so to me. It was she that made me go. I know it was / wrong; but what could I do?"

"What indeed? " stroking tenderly the little hand he held in his. "But, / Honor, it will never do for you to remain here. The place is not / respectable -- I am certain it is not; and the woman looks like an ogress. / I think I can manage something better for you than this. There is an old / servant of my father's -- a Swiss -- an excellent man, with one of the / cleanest and most cheerful of little wives; and if he happens to have / room in his house, I am sure he will be only too delighted to devote / himself to making you comfortable. Really, the nicest of old men. I / will go there this afternoon, and try to make arrangements for the / change."

"Thank you -- how good you are! " Honor said fervently; "they certainly do / not seem like nice people here; but I stopped at the first place where I / saw a bill up. I believe I was afraid to meet my father. What I fear / most now is his seeing me; for he would perhaps tell John -- John would go / to him first, you know, and -- "

"Your father! Why, Honor, haven't you heard? But I don't know how you / should. Your father is -- has -- " and then he stopped, feeling it scarcely / decent to disclose to Honor the facts that proclaimed her father to be a / villain.

But his companion, who was _quoad_ curiosity a true daughter of Eve, / refused on this occasion to allow her filial feelings to be spared. She / insisted (and as a natural consequence not only of that insistence, but / of the wronged man's easily-to-be-comprehended satisfaction in giving at / least words to his sorrow) on hearing all that Arthur could tell her of / her father. In breathless silence she listened to a detail of his / villany; and deep indeed and painful was her regret at the injury which / had been done to the man who had so blindly trusted him.

As Arthur noted the quivering lip, the turbulent heaving of the pitying / breast, he could not but feel he was in one respect a gainer by his / loss; for Honor _could_ hardly be hard and distant to the friend who had / fallen a victim to the machinations of her father. Arthur felt that he / had claim on, an actual right to, her sympathy and kindness now, and / therefore did not hesitate to make the very most of the injuries, the / losses, and the embarrassments which the Colonel's baseness had entailed / upon him.

"I am _so_ sorry -- so very grieved. Is there nothing that I could do? / Perhaps if I were to see my father, I might -- "

Arthur interrupted her with a laugh. "See him? " he said; "why, it would / require the best detective in London, I suspect, to find him out; and if / we did, there is nothing, not even _your_ persuasions, which would be / likely to work up such a man as Fred Norcott to his duty. But we have / wasted time enough over him, dear Honor: and as I am not my own master / just now -- since Sophy's confinement, I mean -- "

"Since _that_? O, Mr. Vavasour, why _did_ you not tell me before? You / knew I should care so much to hear it! Think of your having a dear / little child! " and she sighed involuntarily, a faint but very mournful / sigh (which Arthur fancied in his folly that he comprehended), and then / added, with an attempt at playfulness, "Perhaps I may be thought clever / enough to teach your children some day; but I must learn a great deal / myself first. The Miss Vavasours will want all sorts of accomplishments / that a humble nursery governess knows nothing about; and that reminds / me -- " speaking very quick, as she noted a crimson flush that mounted to / her companion's brow, and a something in his eyes which her woman's / instinct taught her was alarming -- "that reminds me that I have no time / to lose in looking for the means of providing for myself. I have a good / deal of money" (there were exactly seven pounds in her portemonnaie), / "but still I want to begin. It will be no trouble to me to teach and / take care of children. I love them so dearly; and the little things / always take to me."

"It would be strange, I think, if they did not," Arthur ventured to say, / as he gazed with such passionate fondness on her face, that Honor was / forced to veil her eyes with their white lids for very shame.

"O no, it isn't that," she said hastily, and hardly knowing what words / were falling from her lips. "You see, I have been so used to them, / and -- and I cannot bear to be idle. If I have nothing to do, I begin to / think -- to think of poor John -- "

Reading navigation