DOI Artikel:
Traill, Henry D.: The papers of Basil Fillimer
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.21806#0030
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The Papers of Basil Fillimer
she again and again declared her perfect readiness to share my
present fortunes.”
“ Ah ! she did that, did she ? ”
“ Yes, and even after she must have seen that my decision was
inflexible.”
“ Oh ! even after that : but .not before ? Thank you, I think I
understand.”
And I thought I did, as also did Basil. But I fancy our read-
ing of the incident was not the same.
A closer intimacy now followed between the two. They were
not engaged ; Basil had been beforehand in insisting that her future
freedom of choice should not be fettered, and she again “ reluctantly,
—indeed with quite obvious reluctance,” had agreed. They were
much in each other’s Company, and Basil, who used to read her
some of the most intricate psychological chapters in his novel, in
which she showed the greatest interest, conceived a very high idea
of her intellectual gifts. “ She has,” he said, “ by far the subtlest
mind for a woman that I ever came in contact with.”
“Do you ever talk to her about your uncle ? ” I asked him one day.
“Oh yes, sometimes,” he replied. “And, by the way,” he
added, suddenly, “that reminds me. To show you how unjust is
the view you take of your cousin’s motives, as no doubt you do of
human nature generally like most superficial students of it (excuse
an old friend’s frankness), I may teil you that although there have
been many occasions when she might have put the question with
perfect naturalness and propriety, she has never once inquired the
amount of my uncle’s means.”
“ It is very much to her credit,” said I.
“ It is true,” he added, after a moment’s reflection and with a
half-laugh, “ I could not have told her if she had. His money is
all in personalty, and he is a close old chap.”
“ Oh,”
The Papers of Basil Fillimer
she again and again declared her perfect readiness to share my
present fortunes.”
“ Ah ! she did that, did she ? ”
“ Yes, and even after she must have seen that my decision was
inflexible.”
“ Oh ! even after that : but .not before ? Thank you, I think I
understand.”
And I thought I did, as also did Basil. But I fancy our read-
ing of the incident was not the same.
A closer intimacy now followed between the two. They were
not engaged ; Basil had been beforehand in insisting that her future
freedom of choice should not be fettered, and she again “ reluctantly,
—indeed with quite obvious reluctance,” had agreed. They were
much in each other’s Company, and Basil, who used to read her
some of the most intricate psychological chapters in his novel, in
which she showed the greatest interest, conceived a very high idea
of her intellectual gifts. “ She has,” he said, “ by far the subtlest
mind for a woman that I ever came in contact with.”
“Do you ever talk to her about your uncle ? ” I asked him one day.
“Oh yes, sometimes,” he replied. “And, by the way,” he
added, suddenly, “that reminds me. To show you how unjust is
the view you take of your cousin’s motives, as no doubt you do of
human nature generally like most superficial students of it (excuse
an old friend’s frankness), I may teil you that although there have
been many occasions when she might have put the question with
perfect naturalness and propriety, she has never once inquired the
amount of my uncle’s means.”
“ It is very much to her credit,” said I.
“ It is true,” he added, after a moment’s reflection and with a
half-laugh, “ I could not have told her if she had. His money is
all in personalty, and he is a close old chap.”
“ Oh,”