Then drew
himself up before the fire, and looked at his aunt.
"It's like you!" broke out Miss Cardigan. "Ever since you were
born, I think, you did what you liked, and had what you liked;
and threw over everything to get at the best."
"On the contrary," said Thorold, "I was always of a very
contented disposition."
"Contented with your own will, then," said his aunt. "And now,
do you mean to tell me that you have got this prize — this
prize — it's a first-class, Christian — for good and for
certain to yourself?"
I lifted my eyes one instant, to see the sparkles in Thorold's
eyes; they were worth seeing.
"You don't think you deserve it?" Miss Cardigan went on.
"I do not think I deserve it," said Thorold. "But I think I
will."
"I know what that means," said his aunt. "You will get worldly
glory — just a bit or two more of gold on your coat — to match
you with one of the Lord's jewels, that are to be 'all
glorious within;' and you think that will fit you to own her."
"Aunt Catherine," said Thorold, "I do not precisely think
that gold lace is glory.
Pages:
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598