Read Online Christmas at Thompson Hall by Anthony Trollope - Free Book Online

been something doing in Paris between these young people that we haven’t heard as yet,” said the uncle. Then Mrs. Brown laughed, and Jane, laughing too, gave Mr. Jones to understand that she at any rate knew all about it.
    â€œIf there is a mystery I hope it will be told at once,” said the member of Parliament, angrily.
    â€œCome, Brown, what is it?” asked another male cousin.
    â€œWell, there was an accident. I’d rather Jones should tell,” said he.
    Jones’ brow became blacker than thunder, but he did not say a word. “You mustn’t be angry with Mary,” Jane whispered into her lover’s ear.
    â€œCome, Mary, you never were slow at talking,” said the uncle.
    â€œI do hate this kind of thing,” said the member of Parliament.
    â€œI will tell it all,” said Mrs. Brown, very nearly in tears, or else pretending to be very nearly in tears. “I know I was very wrong, and I do beg his pardon, and if he won’t say that he forgives me I never shall be happy again.” Then she clasped her hands, and, turning round, looked him piteously in the face.
    â€œOh yes; I do forgive you,” said Mr. Jones.
    â€œMy brother,” said she, throwing her arms round him and kissing him. He recoiled from the embrace, but I think that he attempted to return the kiss. “And now I will tell the whole story,” said Mrs. Brown. And she told it, acknowledging her fault with true contrition, and swearing that she would atone for it by life-long sisterly devotion.
    â€œAnd you mustard-plastered the wrong man!” said the old gentleman, almost rolling off his chair with delight.
    â€œI did,” said Mrs. Brown, sobbing, “and I think that no woman ever suffered as I suffered.”
    â€œAnd Jones wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?”
    â€œIt was the handkerchief stopped us,” said Brown.
    â€œIf it had turned out to be anybody else,” said the member of Parliament, “the results might have been most serious, — not to say discreditable.”
    â€œThat’s nonsense, Robert,” said Mrs. Brown, who was disposed to resent the use of so severe a word, even from the legislator cousin.
    â€œIn a strange gentleman’s bedroom!” he continued. “It only shows that what I have always said is quite true. You should never go to bed in a strange house without locking your door.”
    Nevertheless it was a very jovial meeting, and before the evening was over Mr. Jones was happy, and had been brought to acknowledge that the mustard plaster would probably not do him any permanent injury.

Christmas Day at Kirkby Cottage
    WHAT MAURICE ARCHER SAID ABOUT CHRISTMAS
    â€œAfter all, Christmas is a bore!”
    â€œEven though you should think so, Mr. Archer, pray do not say so here.”
    â€œBut it is.”
    â€œI am very sorry that you should feel like that; but pray do not say anything so very horrible.”
    â€œWhy not? and why is it horrible? You know very well what I mean.”
    â€œI do not want to know what you mean; and it would make papa very unhappy if he were to hear you.”
    â€œA great deal of beef is roasted, and a great deal of pudding is boiled, and then people try to be jolly by eating more than usual. The consequence is, they get very sleepy, and want to go to bed an hour before the proper time. That’s Christmas.”
    He who made this speech was a young man about twenty-three years old, and the other personage in the dialogue was a young lady, who might be, perhaps, three years his junior. The “papa” to whom the lady had alluded was the Rev. John Lownd, parson of Kirkby Cliffe, in Craven, and the scene was the parsonage library, as pleasant a little room as you would wish to see, in which the young man who thought Christmas to be a bore was at present sitting over the fire, in the parson’s arm-chair, with a novel in his hand, which he had been reading till