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Updated: April 30, 2025
General Renwick's loss of his faded and feeble spouse, the far-famed "Poor Thing" of much polite apology for her socially aristocratic ailments; Vane Tempest's singular elopement with the beautiful wife of a green subaltern; Harry Chillingly's untoward end while potting tigers; Count Platen's enormous winnings at Baccarat; Fitzgerald Law's falling into a peerage; and Mrs.
Just as misanthropy with some persons grows out of benevolence disappointed, so there are certain natures and Kenelm Chillingly's was perhaps one of them in which indifferentism grows out of earnestness baffled. He had promised himself pleasure in renewing acquaintance with his old tutor, Mr. Welby, pleasure in refreshing his own taste for metaphysics and casuistry and criticism.
"It would be no friend to Lily who could put such notions into her head; and there is no reason to suppose that they have entered into Mr. Chillingly's." "Would you be sorry if they did? Surely you would like your niece to marry well, and there are few chances of her doing so at Moleswich." "Pardon me, Mrs.
Still, if Mr. Chillingly's talk belies his actions, he may be a good man, but he is a very affected one." CECILIA. "Have I not heard you say that there are persons so natural that they seem affected to those who do not understand them?" Mrs. Campion raised her eyes to Cecilia's face, dropped them again over her work, and said, in grave undertones, "Take care, Cecilia." "Take care of what?"
The haunting horror of his own identity is to natures far less eccentric than Kenelm Chillingly's only too common a curse. To this companionship, paradoxical though it sound, is principally due the peculiar loneliness of childhood. For nothing is so isolating as a persistent idea which one dares not confide.
Still, if Mr. Chillingly's talk belies his actions, he may be a good man, but he is a very affected one." CECILIA. "Have I not heard you say that there are persons so natural that they seem affected to those who do not understand them?" Mrs. Campion raised her eyes to Cecilia's face, dropped them again over her work, and said, in grave undertones, "Take care, Cecilia." "Take care of what?"
"In that case," said Kenelm, gravely, and extracting from the water a small but lively trout, which settled itself in Lady Chillingly's lap, "in that case I would rather not be amused. I have no interest in the absurdities of other people. The instinct of self-preservation compels me to have some interest in my own."
Just as misanthropy with some persons grows out of benevolence disappointed, so there are certain natures and Kenelm Chillingly's was perhaps one of them in which indifferentism grows out of earnestness baffled. He had promised himself pleasure in renewing acquaintance with his old tutor, Mr. Welby, pleasure in refreshing his own taste for metaphysics and casuistry and criticism.
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