The Desborough Connections Page #5

"The Desborough Connections" by Bret Harte is a captivating short story that explores themes of social class, morality, and the complexities of human relationships. Set in the American West, the narrative revolves around the titular Desborough family, whose connections and enigmatic past intrigue locals and visitors alike. Through a blend of wit, irony, and vivid characterization, Harte delves into the intricacies of love, loyalty, and the consequences of choices made by the characters. The story reflects the author's hallmark style, showcasing his ability to capture the essence of frontier life while critiquing societal norms.

• Short story

								

navvies, who come from the north as he does, call him 'Debbers.'"

They were obliged to descend into the cottage, which was so low that it
seemed to have sunk into the earth until its drooping eaves of thatch
mingled with the straw heap beside it. Debs was not at home. But his
granddaughter was there, who, after a preliminary "bob," continued the
stirring of the pot before the fire in tentative silence.

"I am sorry to find that your grandfather has gone to work again in
spite of the doctor's orders," said Miss Amelyn.

The girl continued to stir the pot, and then said without looking
up, but as if also continuing a train of aggressive thoughts with her
occupation: "Eay, but 'e's so set oop in 'issen 'ee doan't take orders
from nobbut--leastways doctor. Moinds 'em now moor nor a floy. Says 'ee
knaws there nowt wrong wi' 'is 'eart. Mout be roight--how'siver, sarten
sewer, 'is 'EAD'S a' in a muddle! Toims 'ee goes off stamrin' and
starin' at nowt, as if 'ee a'nt a n'aporth o' sense. How'siver I be
doing my duty by 'em--and 'ere's 'is porritch when a' cooms--'gin a' be
sick or maad."

What the American understood of the girl's speech and manner struck
her as having very little sympathy with either her aged relative or her
present visitor. And there was a certain dogged selfish independence
about her that Miss Desborough half liked and half resented. However,
Miss Amelyn did not seem to notice it, and, after leaving a bottle of
port for the grandfather, she took her leave and led Sadie away. As they
passed into the village a carriage, returning to the Priory, filled with
their fellow guests, dashed by, but was instantly pulled up at a word
from Lord Algernon, who leaped from the vehicle, hat in hand, and
implored the fair truant and her companion to join them.

"We're just making a tour around Windover Hill, and back to luncheon,"
he said, with a rising color. "We missed you awfully! If we had known
you were so keen on 'good works,' and so early at it, by Jove! we'd have
got up a 'slummin' party,' and all joined!"

"And you haven't seen half," said Lord Beverdale from the box. "Miss
Amelyn's too partial to the village. There's an old drunken retired
poacher somewhere in a hut in Crawley Woods, whom it's death to
approach, except with a large party. There's malignant diphtheria over
at the South Farm, eight down with measles at the keeper's, and an old
woman who has been bedridden for years."

But Miss Desborough was adamant, though sparkling. She thanked him,
but said she had just seen an old woman "who had been lying in bed for
twenty years, and hadn't spoken the truth once!" She proposed "going
outside of Lord Beverdale's own preserves of grain-fed poor," and
starting up her own game. She would return in time for luncheon--if she
could; if not, she "should annex the gruel of the first kind incapable
she met."

Yet, actually, she was far from displeased at being accidentally
discovered by these people while following out her capricious whim of
the morning. One or two elder ladies, who had fought shy of her frocks
and her frankness the evening before, were quite touched now by this
butterfly who was willing to forego the sunlight of society, and soil
her pretty wings on the haunts of the impoverished, with only a single
companion,--of her own sex!--and smiled approvingly. And in her present
state of mind, remembering her companion's timid attitude towards Lord
Beverdale's opinions, she was not above administering this slight snub
to him in her presence.

When they had driven away, with many regrets, Miss Amelyn was deeply
concerned. "I am afraid," she said, with timid conscientiousness, "I
have kept you from going with them. And you must be bored with what you
have seen, I know. I don't believe you really care one bit for it--and
you are only doing it to please me."

"Trot out the rest of your show," said Sadie promptly, "and we'll wind
up by lunching with the rector."

"He'd be too delighted," said Miss Amelyn, with disaster written all
over her girlish, truthful face, "but--but--you know--it really wouldn't
be quite right to Lord Beverdale. You're his principal guest--you know,
and--they'd think I had taken you off."

"Well," said Miss Desborough impetuously, "what's the matter with that
inn--the Red Lion? We can get a sandwich there, I guess. I'm not VERY
hungry."

Miss Amelyn looked horrified for a moment, and then laughed; but
immediately became concerned again. "No! listen to me, REALLY now! Let
me finish my round alone! You'll have ample time if you go NOW to reach
the Priory for luncheon. Do, please! It would be ever so much better for
everybody. I feel quite guilty as it is, and I suppose I am already in
Lord Beverdale's black books."

The trouble in the young girl's face was unmistakable, and as it suited
Miss Desborough's purpose just as well to show her independence by
returning, as she had set out, alone, she consented to go. Miss Amelyn
showed her a short cut across the park, and they separated--to meet at
dinner. In this brief fellowship, the American girl had kept a certain
supremacy and half-fascination over the English girl, even while she was
conscious of an invincible character in Miss Amelyn entirely different
from and superior to her own. Certainly there was a difference in the
two peoples. Why else this inherited conscientious reverence for Lord
Beverdale's position, shown by Miss Amelyn, which she, an American alive
to its practical benefits, could not understand? Would Miss Amelyn and
Lord Algernon have made a better match? The thought irritated her, even
while she knew that she herself possessed the young man's affections,
the power to marry him, and, as she believed, kept her own independence
in the matter.

As she entered the iron gates at the lower end of the park, and glanced
at the interwoven cipher and crest of the Amelyns still above, she was
conscious that the wind was blowing more chill, and that a few clouds
had gathered. As she walked on down the long winding avenue, the sky
became overcast, and, in one of those strange contrasts of the English
climate, the glory of the whole day went out with the sunshine. The
woods suddenly became wrinkled and gray, the distant hills sombre, the
very English turf beneath her feet grew brown; a mile and a half away,
through the opening of the trees, the west part of the Priory looked
a crumbling, ivy-eaten ruin. A few drops of rain fell. She hurried
on. Suddenly she remembered that the avenue made a long circuit before
approaching the house, and that its lower end, where she was walking,
was but a fringe of the park. Consequently there must be a short cut
across some fields and farm buildings to the back of the park and the
Priory. She at once diverged to the right, presently found a low fence,
which she clambered over, and again found a footpath which led to a
stile. Crossing that, she could see the footpath now led directly to the

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