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Updated: June 28, 2025
Ascott, as follows: "MISS LEAF. MADAM, I shall be obliged by your informing me if it is your wish, as it seems to be your nephew's, that instead of returning to Stowbury, he should settle in London as a surgeon and general practitioner?
"I remember," said Miss Leaf, as they rumbled for the last time through the empty morning streets of poor old Stowbury: "I remember my grandmother telling me that when my grandfather was courting her, and she out of coquetry refused him, he set off on horseback to London, and she was so wretched to think of all the dangers he ran on the journey, and in London itself, that she never rested till she got him back, and then immediately married him."
While at Stowbury, she had heard by chance of Tom Cliffe's passing through the town as a Chartist lecturer, or something of the sort, with his pretty, showy London wife, who, when he brought her there, had looked down rather contemptuously upon the street where Tom was born. This was all Elizabeth knew about them.
It was vexatious to have to make excuses for Ascott: particularly as his godfather said with a laugh, that "young fellows would be young fellows," they needn't expect to see the lad till midnight, or till to-morrow morning. But though in this, and other things, he somewhat annoyed the ladies from Stowbury, no one could say he was not civil to them exceedingly civil.
When people can truly recognize this they cease either to be afraid or ashamed of poverty. Hilary was not ashamed: not even now, when hers smote sharper and harder than it had ever done at Stowbury. She felt it a sore thing enough; but it never humiliated nor angered her.
He was so gentlemanly, so well dressed much better dressed than even at Stowbury and he seemed so unfeignedly glad to see them. He handed them all into the cab even Elizabeth. though whispering meanwhile to his Aunt Hilary, "What on earth did you bring her for?" and their was just going to leap on to the box himself, when he stopped to ask "Where he should tell cabby to drive to?"
Thus slipped away the strange, still day a Sunday never to be forgotten. At night, after prayers were, over, Mr. Lyon rose suddenly, saying he must leave them now; he was obliged to start from Stowbury at daybreak. "Shall we not see you again?" asked Johanna. "No. This will be my last Sunday in England. Good-by!"
That sale, they now found had been a mistake; and they half feared whether the whole change from Stowbury to London had not been a mistake one of those sad errors in judgment which we all commit sometimes, and have to abide by, and make the best of, and learn from if we can.
The tone, the manner, were so exactly like himself, that in a moment all these intervening years seemed crushed into an atom of time. Hilary felt certain, morally and absolutely certain, that, in spite of all outward change, he was the same Robert Lyon who had bade them all good-by that Sunday night in the parlor at Stowbury.
Still, she thought it right to explain to her that London life might have many difficulties, that; for the present at least, her wages could not be raised, and the family might at first be in even more straitened circumstances than they were at Stowbury. "Only at first, though, for I hope to find plenty of pupils, and by-and-by our nephew will get into practice."
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