The Pride of Jennico by Egerton Castle — Read

IT WAS full of this resolve, with an uplifted consciousness of my own virtue, that I started next morning beside her upon our homeward way. The day was very bright; and the bare trees, with here and there a yellow or red leaf, showed against a sky of palest blue. There was a frost about us, and our horses were fresh and full of pranks, as we wound down the rocky paths. My wife, too, was in a skittish humour, which irritated me a little as being ill-assorted to my own high-strung feelings and my secret sense of magnanimity. She mocked at my solemn face, she sang ends of silly songs to herself. I would have spoken to her of what was on my heart; I would have had her grateful to me, conscious of her own sin and my generosity. But I could get her to hearken to no serious speech. She called me "Monsieur de la Faridondaine," and plucked a bunch of ash berries as we rode, and stuck them over one ear, and asked me, her face dimpling, if it was not becoming to her.

And then, when I still urged that I would talk of grave matters, she pulled a grimace, and fell to mimicking Schultz with "Jawohl, Gnädigster Herr," till I was fain to laugh with her and put off my sermon till the audience was better disposed.