EVAN HARRINGTON; or, HE WOULD BE A GENTLEMAN.
BY GEORGE MEREDITH.
CHAPTER XXXII.IN WHICH EVAN’S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN.
The dowagers were now firmly planted on Olympus. Along the grass lay warm, strong colours of the evening sun, reddening the pine-stems and the idle aspen-leaves. For a moment it had hung in doubt whether the pic-nic could survive the two rude shocks it had received. Happily the youthful element was large, and when the band, refreshed by chicken and sherry, threw off half a dozen bars of one of those irresistible waltzes that first catch the ear, and then curl round the heart, till on a sudden they invade and will have the legs, a rush up Parnassus was seen, and there were shouts and laughter and commotion, as over other great fields of battle the corn will wave gaily and mark the re-establishment of nature’s reign.
How fair the sight! Approach the twirling couples. They talk as they twirl.
“Fancy the runaway tailor!” is the males’ remark, and he expects to be admired for it, and is.
“That make-up Countess—his sister, you know—didn’t you see her? she turned green,” says Creation’s second effort, almost occupying the place of a rib.
“Isn’t there a runaway wife, too?”
“Now, you mustn’t be naughty!”
They laugh and flatter one another. The power to give and take flattery to any amount is the rare treasure of youth.
Undoubtedly they are a poetical picture; but some poetical pictures talk dreary prose; so we will retire.
Now while the dancers carried on their business, and distance lent them enchantment, Rose stood by Juliana, near an alder which hid them from the rest.
“I don’t accuse you,” she was saying; “but who could have done this but you? Ah, Juley! you will never get what you want if you plot for it. I thought once you cared for Evan. If he had loved you, would I not have done all that I could for you both? I pardon you with all my heart, Juley.”
“Keep your pardon!” was the angry answer.