The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900 ... - Gredos

The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900)
matter secret from you; besides I can trust you. My dear young friend, Edward Gifford
did not lie — he put the thing coarsely, and with a — a very regrettable lack of
gallantry; but it is more or less true that he has very solid claims to Miss Rachel's hand."
"True that her father has sold her to him?" interrupted Simon in a hoarse whisper.
"Hush, hush! Tut, tut, tut — there is no need for you to repeat what the fellow blurted
out in his cups. There is — an understanding between him and the Squire.
[144]
Young Gifford is advancing Mr. Charnock a very large sum on mortgage. The estate is
already heavily encumbered, and the terms are most advantageous to Mr. Charnock —
more advantageous than he could have hoped for unless Mr. Gifford were particularly
well-disposed towards him. It has, therefore, been agreed between them that, though
Mr. Charnock will not of course put any undue pressure upon his daughter's feelings, he
will favour Edward Gifford's suit."
A dead silence ensued, broken only by the stertorous breathing of the suitor in question.
Simon's features had become white and rigid as though carved in marble, and Mr.
Renshaw, gazing anxiously at them, could no more detect the inward emotions cloaked
by their impassiveness, than he could have read the secret, ever present, never disclosed,
hidden behind the cold mask of Death itself.
Presently Mr. Renshaw stepped up to the prostrate figure of Gifford, who, at first
partially stunned by his fall, had now sunk into a heavy sleep.
"He will smother if we leave him like this," he said; and stooping, loosened Gifford's
neck-cloth and placed him in an easier position.
"What are you going to do with him?" inquired Simon sternly. "If you send him back to
the Hall in this condition I doubt if his suit will prosper."
"'Tis not to be thought of, indeed," cried Mr. Renshaw hastily. "The ladies would be
sure to hear of it, and the Squire would truly be much displeased. I fear that all the
blame will rest on me. Dear, dear, it is a thousand pities that the young man suffers his
enthusiasm to run away with him. A fine fellow, Simon, most assuredly a fine fellow.
Mark the broad shoulders of him, and what a leg! So shrewd, too — so appreciative —
a marvel for his years. Were his head but a little stronger, he would be all but perfect."