She was engaged, and devotedly attached, to a
young clergyman; I was madly in love with a somewhat plump girl
named Cecilia who lived with her mother at Hampstead. I am positive
as to her living at Hampstead. I remember so distinctly my weekly
walk down the hill from Church Row to the Swiss Cottage station.
When walking down a steep hill all the weight of the body is forced
into the toe of the boot, and when the boot is two sizes too small
for you, and you have been living in it since the early afternoon,
you remember a thing like that. But all my recollections of Cecilia
are painful, and it is needless to pursue them.
Our coach-load was a homely party, and some of the jokes were
broad--harmless enough in themselves, had Minnie and I really been
the married couple we were supposed to be, but even in that case
unnecessary. I can only hope that Minnie did not understand them.
Anyhow, she looked as if she didn't.
I forget where we stopped for lunch, but I remember that lamb and
mint sauce was on the table, and that the circumstance afforded the
greatest delight to all the party, with the exception of the stout
lady, who was still indignant, Minnie and myself. About my
behaviour as a bridegroom opinion appeared to be divided.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150