Kept in the Dark | Page 3

any longer to be at

the trouble of serving her. "Oh, mamma, how foolish you are! How can
I tell what Sir Francis Geraldine may be doing?"
"But I thought he was to have been here."
"Mamma, please understand that I do not carry him about tied to my
apron-strings. When it pleases him to come he will come." Then she
went on with her book and was silent for a minute or two. Then she
broke out again. "I am sure there ought to be a rule in life that people
when they are engaged should never see each other again till they meet
in the church."
"I don't think that would do at all, my dear."
"Perhaps things were different when you were young. The world
becomes less simple every day. However, mamma, we must put up
with Sir Francis whether he come or whether he remain away."
"The world may be less simple," said Mrs. Holt after a pause, "but I
don't think it half so nice. Young men used to think that there was
nothing so pleasant as a young lady's company when,--when,--when
they were engaged, you know." Then the conversation ended, and the
morning passed without the coming of Sir Francis.
After that a week passed,--with great forbearance on the part of Cecilia.
She thought herself at least to be forbearing. She thought much of her
lover, and had no doubt tried to interest herself in the usual
conversation of her friends. But they, by the end of the week, perceived
that Sir Francis was never first spoken of by herself. To Maude
Hippesley it was very difficult to avoid an expression of her doubts,
because Maude was niece to Sir Francis. And Sir Francis was much
talked about at the Deanery. "My uncle was not down here this
morning," Maude would say:--and then she would go on to excuse the
defalcation. He had had business requiring his immediate
attention,--probably something as to the marriage settlements. "But of
course he will tell you all that." Cecilia saw through the little attempts.
Maude was quite aware that Sir Francis was becoming weary of his
lover's cares, and made the best excuse she could for them. But Maude

Hippesley never had liked her uncle.
"Oh, my dear Maude," said Cecilia, "pray let him do what he pleases
with himself in these the last days of his liberty. When he has got a
wife he must attend to her,--more or less. Now he is as free as air. Pray
let him do as he pleases, and for heaven's sake do not bother him!"
Maude who had her own lover, and was perfectly satisfied with him
though she had been engaged to him for nearly twelve months, knew
that things were not going well, and was unhappy. But at the moment
she said nothing further.
"Where is this recreant knight?" said Francesca. There was something
in the tone of Miss Altifiorla's voice which grated against Cecilia's ears,
and almost made her angry. But she knew that in her present condition
it behoved her to be especially careful. Had she resolved to break with
her betrothed she would have been quite open on the subject to all her
friends. She would have been open to all Exeter. But in her present
condition of mind she was resolved,--she thought she was resolved,--to
go on with her marriage.
"Why you should call him a recreant knight, I cannot for the life of me
understand," she said. "But it seems that Sir Francis, who is not exactly
in his first youth, is supposed to be as attentive as a young turtle dove."
"I always used to think," said Miss Altifiorla gravely, "that a gentleman
was bound to keep his promise."
"Oh heavens, how grave you all are! A gentleman and his promise! Do
you mean to assert that Sir Francis is no gentleman, and does not keep
his promises? Because if so I shall be angry." Then there was an end of
that conversation.
But she was stirred to absolute anger by what took place with Mrs.
Green, though she was unable to express her anger. Mrs. Green's
manner to her had always been that of a somewhat humble friend,--of
one who lived in lodgings in the High Street, and who accepted dinners
without returning them. And since this engagement with Sir Francis
had become a fact, her manner had become perhaps a little more

humble. She used to say of herself that of course she was poor; of
course she had nothing to give. Her husband was only a Minor Canon,
and had married her, alas, without a fortune. It is not to be supposed
that on this account Cecilia was inclined to ill-treat her friend; but the
way of the world is such. People