"'Anne of Geierstein' (pronounced Jeersteen) or the 'Maiden of the

Mist, by the author of Waverley.'" Then turning the page, he began

sonorously--"The course of four centuries has well-nigh elapsed since

the series of events which are related in the following chapters took

place on the Continent." He pronounced the last truly admirable word

with the accent on the last syllable, not as unaware of vulgar usage,

but feeling that this novel delivery enhanced the sonorous beauty which

his reading had given to the whole.

And now the servant came in with the tray, so that the moments for

answering Mrs. Waule's question had gone by safely, while she and

Solomon, watching Mr. Trumbull's movements, were thinking that high

learning interfered sadly with serious affairs. Mr. Borthrop Trumbull

really knew nothing about old Featherstone's will; but he could hardly

have been brought to declare any ignorance unless he had been arrested

for misprision of treason.

"I shall take a mere mouthful of ham and a glass of ale," he said,

reassuringly. "As a man with public business, I take a snack when I

can. I will back this ham," he added, after swallowing some morsels

with alarming haste, "against any ham in the three kingdoms. In my

opinion it is better than the hams at Freshitt Hall--and I think I am

a tolerable judge."

"Some don't like so much sugar in their hams," said Mrs. Waule. "But

my poor brother would always have sugar."

"If any person demands better, he is at liberty to do so; but, God

bless me, what an aroma! I should be glad to buy in that quality, I

know. There is some gratification to a gentleman"--here Mr.

Trumbull's voice conveyed an emotional remonstrance--"in having this

kind of ham set on his table."

He pushed aside his plate, poured out his glass of ale and drew his

chair a little forward, profiting by the occasion to look at the inner

side of his legs, which he stroked approvingly--Mr. Trumbull having

all those less frivolous airs and gestures which distinguish the

predominant races of the north.

"You have an interesting work there, I see, Miss Garth," he observed,

when Mary re-entered. "It is by the author of 'Waverley': that is Sir

Walter Scott. I have bought one of his works myself--a very nice

thing, a very superior publication, entitled 'Ivanhoe.' You will not

get any writer to beat him in a hurry, I think--he will not, in my

opinion, be speedily surpassed. I have just been reading a portion at

the commencement of 'Anne of Jeersteen.' It commences well." (Things

never began with Mr. Borthrop Trumbull: they always commenced, both in

private life and on his handbills.) "You are a reader, I see. Do you

subscribe to our Middlemarch library?"




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