The House on the Beach: A Realistic Tale
a mantle. Here it was that Mr. Herbert Fellingham found Annette, a chalk- block for her chair, and a mound of chalk-rubble defending he
e a space is claimed for the exposure. As it is, one has almost to fight a battle to persuade the world that she has downright thoughts and feelings, and really a superhuman delicacy is required in presenting her that she may be credible. Even then-so much being accomplished the thousands accustomed to chapters of her when she is in the situation of Annette will be disappointed by short sentences, just as of old the Continental eater of oysters would have been offended at the offer of an exchange of two live for two dozen dead ones. Annette was in the grand crucial position of English imaginative prose. I recognize it, and that to this the
our word for it that you
rb
liked him as emigrants t
e not promis
t if she could be induced to promise it, t
have a chance?" he said, in the semi-wailful inter
a tiny wave
s rarer than a summer day,"
ying, "People ab
herself, overwhelmed her, and fetched the reality of her sorrow in the form of Tinman swimming before her soul with the velocity
l that this was
en more resolute, fierier.
rather sailed along than dashed; he was careful of his figuring. Some lovers, right honest lovers, never get beyond this quaint skating-stage; and some ladies, a right goodly number in a foggy climate, deceived by their occasional runs ahead, take them for vessels on the very torrent of love.
nveil his own sex is q
solely are we done for
uch ground for anxiety
rty is blind on
p and carry her; it hardly touched her: He spoke well enough to make her so
er conduct from Annette, and he went straight to her father
t the country with us, y
y?" Herbert asked, i
declined
fingers. I can't. I've got feelings. I'm in his power to hurt me and disgrace me. It's the disgrace-to my disgrace I say it-I dread most. You'd be up to my reason if you had ever served in a regiment. I mean, discipline-if ever you'd known discipline-in the police if you like-anything-anywhere where there's w
ged to lean on Van Diemen's assertion, that he had not robbed and had not murdered, to be comforted by the belief that he was n
ng like the rest of mankind, and looking
at he could not do was to let his countrymen know what he was, and live among them afterwards. He declared that the fact had eternally been present to his mind, devouring him; and Annette remembered his kindness to the artillerymen posted along the shore westward of Crikswich, though she could recall no sign of remorse. Van Diemen said: "We have to do with Martin Tinman; that's one who has a hold on me, and one's enough.
ping in to mediate between her father and Mr. Tinman. And well
Cavely said, "t
cried:
He cannot bear to hear boasting. Well! I put it to you, dear Annette, is he so unimportant a person? He asks to be respected, and especially by his dearest friend. From that to blows! It's the way with men. They begin about trifles, they drink, they quarrel, and one does what he is sorry for, and one says more than he means. All my Martin desires is to shake your dear father's hand, forgive and forget. To win your esteem, darling Annette, he would humble himself in
felled him, and spoke the truth of her
m of feminine archness, "praise Gippsland above the Himalayas to me. What my Martin so much objected to was, the speaking of Gip
portance to a blow of the fist. In her mind it blazed fiendlike, and the man who forgave it rose a step or two on the sublime. Especially did he do so considering that he had it in his power to d
kind to Mr. Tinman as I
ne
ned gloomily. "He may let me off with the Commander-in-chief. He'll blast my r
y, in one of those rapid flashes of spontaneous veri-similitude
ter!" he
ssing the terrible na
's imag
ce; for he was totally in the dark. He was attracted by the mysterious interview of Mrs. Cavely and Annette. Tinman's c
to-morrow. I would not have accepted, but papa . . . we seemed to think it a duty. Of course the invitation ext
to try the skill o
e, or slaughtering, and review; good, then, for the silly sheep of letters and the butchers. He sat down to Mrs. Crickledon's table at half-past six. She was, as she had previously informed him, a forty-pound-a-year cook at the period of her courting by Crickledon. That zealous and devoted husband had made his first excursion inland to drop over the downs to the great house, and fetch her away as his bride, on the death of her master, Sir Alfred Pooney, who never would have parted
ent to you, Mrs. Crickledon,
ess of enforced philosophy, that
October. It had the taste of doctor's shop, they both agreed; and as no friend of theirs could be tempted beyond a sip, they were advised, because it was called a tonic, to mix it with the pig-wash, so
Sir Alfred Pooney's favourite sauce Soubise, wherein rightly onion should be delicate as the idea of love in maidens' thoughts, albeit constituting the element of flavour. So
you would call a young gal's b
et had the habit of
, as Mrs. Crickledon knew her countrymen should and would be under those conditions. And suddenly he d
"I'm sound enough
up to one of his g
u thin
enting Miss A
age can't be seriously thinkin
He had n't the rackets in him. And she may
nd silence you may hear pins; in a hubbub you may hear ca
y hard before Mr. Smith beat him and he sold Mr. Smith that meadow; he was heard to say, there was worse than transportation for Mr. Smith if he but lifted his finger. They Tinmans have awfu
t ejaculated, "that's sh
husband woul
battery, over that chiwal glass: 'And you shall pay,' says Mr. Smith, and 'I sha'n't,' says old Tinman. Mr. Smith said he would have it if he had to squeeze a deathbed confession from a sinner. Then old Tinman fires ou
so capitally
a D. to you; and if I lift my fi
id Mr. Smit
shot, my husband sa
ham jumped away
r husband actually heard that
For I've noticed Mr. Smith since that day has never looked to me the same easy-minded happy gentleman he was when we first knew him. He would have had me go to cook for
n's shop. Thence, with the story confirmed to h