I
love not a dead calm: now a tempest, now a refreshing breeze, I shall
know how to enjoy the difference--My brother will not be here to turn
jest into earnest; as might perhaps be the effect of his mediation--But,
heigh-ho, Harriet! that the first week were over, and I had got into my
throne!
She ended with an Italian air, contrasted with another heigh-ho; and left
me for a few moments.
Poor Lord G----! said I, looking after her.
She returned soon. Poor Lord G----! repeated she: those were the piteous
words you threw after me--But if I should provoke him, do you think he
would not give me a cuff, or so?--You know he can't return joke for joke;
and he must revenge himself some way--If that should be the case, Poor
Charlotte, I hope you would say--
Not if you deserved it.
Deserve a cuff, Harriet!--Well, but I am afraid I shall.
Remember next Tuesday, Charlotte!--You must vow obedience--Will you break
your vow?--This is not a jesting matter.
True, Harriet. And that it is not, was perhaps one of the reasons that
made me disinclined to go to so solemn a place as the church with Lord
G----. Don't you think it one with those who insist upon being married
in their own chamber?
I believe great people, said I, think they must not do right things in
the common way: that seems to me to be one of their fantastic reasons:
but the vow is the vow, Charlotte: God is every where.
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