Summary

Portrait of Charlotte M. Yonge Charlotte M. Yonge Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume

I love and honour him more than any one I ever met—except my dear father.”
“Come, Aura, you are talking by rote out of the marriage service. You may be open with me, you know, it will go no further; and I do long to know whether you can be truly content at heart,” said Harriet with real affection.
“Dear sister,” said Aurelia, touched, “believe me that indeed I am. Mr. Belamour is kindness itself. He is all he ever promised to be to me, and sometimes more.”
“Yet if he loved you, he could never let you live moped up there. Are you never frighted at the dark chamber? I should die of it!”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Charlotte M. Yonge Charlotte M. Yonge Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume

Love is strong as death, you know,” she added dreamily: “I think I felt it all round me in that sleep.”
“That was what you murmured once or twice in your sleep,” said Betty.
“And now, oh! it is so sweet to lie here and know it is you. And wasn’t he there too?”
“Sir Amyas? Yes, my dear. He came for you. He and my father and the others are in the other room waiting for you to wake.”
“I hear their voices,” cried Aurelia, with a start, sitting up. “Oh! that’s my papa’s voice! Oh! how good it is to hear it!”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Charlotte M. Yonge Charlotte M. Yonge Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume

Aurelia ventured to say.
“And a perfect puppet she makes of the poor child,” said Mrs. Hunter. “My sister Chetwynd saw him with his mother at a masquerade, my Lady Belamour flaunting as Venus, and he, when he ought to have been in his bed, dressed in rose-colour and silver, with a bow and arrows, and gauze wings on his shoulders!”
“What will that child come to?”
“Remember, Sister Delia, he is no kin of ours. He is only a Wayland!” returned Mrs. Phoebe, in an accent as if the Waylands were the most contemptible of vermin.
Source: Gutenberg

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