The Deliverance of Robert Carter (Volume 1) (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1891. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER YIII. "Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laughed, A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, And sweet as English air could make her." Tennyson. One evening, a few weeks afterwards, Mr. Daunt remarked to his wife, "Carter has been talking to me about his son." "His son?" she said. "Oh you mean the well-dressed young man." "Yes," he continued; "he was brought up by an aunt in the north of England. She was a Mrs. Golding, and I think years ago I heard something of her. I believe there used to be some gossip about her and Lord Wennington." "She was a lady, then," said Claire. ( 170 ) "Certainly," he answered, "she was what is called a lady." "I thought the young fellow looked like a gentleman," she remarked. "He was accustomed to a set of people quite different from his own family," continued Mr. Daunt, "and the aunt is now dead, and has left him a considerable income. Carter is concerned about the lad." "Is it because he dresses so well?" she asked; "I notice that bad tailors, after good preachers, seem to be regarded as the most efficient instruments of grace." Mr. Daunt laughed--he always laughed at Claire's sharp sayings; but he replied, "Really, Claire, you're not complimentary to the cloth." "Which?" inquired Claire. "Well, perhaps both; but, Claire, I wish you would try to feel a little more kindly to these people." "I have tried," she answered, petulantly, "and it's really impossible. They are the most cross-grained old Puritans in the world; they call me the Scarlet Woman because I kneel at prayers; they take away my character because my black bonnet came from Paris; and, what do you think? that wretched old Mrs. Pickford asked me if I didn't think it was a pity so many young women painted now-a-days. I said I thought it was a great pity...