And the landlady,
presently having occasion to go upstairs, was aware of a dead silence in
the room where the Christophersons were sitting. She knocked--prepared with
some excuse--and found the couple side by side, smiling sadly. At once they
told her the truth. Mrs. Keeting had come because of a letter in which Mrs.
Christopherson had mentioned the fact that her husband had a good many
books, and hoped he might be permitted to remove them to the house in
Norfolk. She came to see the library--with the result already heard. They
had the choice between sacrificing the books and losing what their relative
offered.
'Christopherson refused?' I let fall.
'I suppose his wife saw that it was too much for him. At all events, they'd
agreed to keep the books and lose the house. And there's an end of it. I
haven't been so riled about anything for a long time!'
Meantime I had been reflecting. It was easy for me to understand
Christopherson's state of mind, and without knowing Mrs. Keeting, I saw
that she must be a person whose benefactions would be a good deal of a
burden. After all, was Mrs. Christopherson so very unhappy? Was she not the
kind of woman who lived by sacrifice--one who had far rather lead a life
disagreeable to herself than change it at the cost of discomfort to her
husband? This view of the matter irritated Pomfret, and he broke into
objurgations, directed partly against Mrs.
Pages:
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166