Lord Ormont and His Aminta — Volume 1
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Lord Ormont and His Aminta — Volume 1

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The Project Gutenberg Etext of Lord Ormont and his Aminta, v1 by George Meredith #83 in our series by GeorgeMeredithCopyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloadingor redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg file.We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is, on your own disk, thereby keeping an electronic path open for futurereaders.Please do not remove this.This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to view the etext. Do not change or edit it without writtenpermission. The words are carefully chosen to provide users with the information they need to understand what they mayand may not do with the etext. To encourage this, we have moved most of the information to the end, rather than having itall here at the beginning.**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts****Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971*******These Etexts Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get etexts, and further information, is included below. We need yourdonations.The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number]64-6221541 Find out about how to make a donation at the bottom of this file.Title: Lord Ormont and his Aminta, v1Author: George MeredithEdition: 10Language: EnglishRelease Date: September, 2003 [Etext ...

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The Project Gutenberg Etext of Lord Ormont andhis Aminta, v1 by George Meredith #83 in ourseries by George MeredithCopyright laws are changing all over the world. Besure to check the copyright laws for your countrybefore downloading or redistributing this or anyother Project Gutenberg file.We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is,on your own disk, thereby keeping an electronicpath open for future readers.Please do not remove this.This header should be the first thing seen whenanyone starts to view the etext. Do not change oredit it without written permission. The words arecarefully chosen to provide users with theinformation they need to understand what theymay and may not do with the etext. To encouragethis, we have moved most of the information to theend, rather than having it all here at the beginning.**Welcome To The World of Free Plain VanillaElectronic Texts****Etexts Readable By Both Humans and ByComputers, Since 1971*******These Etexts Were Prepared By Thousands ofVolunteers!*****Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to getetexts, and further information, is included below.We need your donations.The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundationis a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN [Employee
Identification Number] 64-6221541 Find out abouthow to make a donation at the bottom of this file.Title: Lord Ormont and his Aminta, v1Author: George MeredithEdition: 10Language: EnglishRelease Date: September, 2003 [Etext #4477][Yes, we are more than one year ahead ofschedule][This file was first posted on February 25, 2002]The Project Gutenberg Etext Lord Ormont and hisAminta, v1, by Meredith*********This file should be named gm83v10.txt orgm83v10.zip**********Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a newNUMBER, gm83v11.txtVERSIONS based on separate sources get newLETTER, gm83v10a.txtProject Gutenberg Etexts are often created fromseveral printed editions, all of which are confirmedas Public Domain in the US unless a copyrightnotice is included. Thus, we usually do not keepetexts in compliance with any particular paperedition.The "legal small print" and other information aboutthis book may now be found at the end of this file.Please read this important information, as it gives
you specific rights and tells you about restrictionsin how the file may be used.This etext was produced by Pat Castevans<patcat@ctnet.net> and David Widger<widger@cecomet.net>[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, orpointers, at the end of the file for those who maywish to sample the author's ideas before makingan entire meal of them. D.W.]LORD ORMONT ANDHIS AMINTA.By George MeredithCONTENTS.BOOK 1. I. LOVE AT A SCHOOL II. LADYCHARLOTTE III. THE TUTOR IV. RECOGNITIONV. IN WHICH THE SHADES OF BROWNY AND
MATEY ADVANCE AND RETIREBOOK 2. VI. IN A MOOD OF LANGUOR VII.EXHIBITS EFFECTS OF A PRATTLER'S DOSESVIII. MRS. LAWRENCE FINCHLEY IX. A FLASHOF THE BRUISED WARRIOR X. A SHORTPASSAGE IN THE GAME PLAYED BY TWO XI.THE SECRETARY TAKEN AS AN ANTIDOTEBOOK 3. XII. MORE OF CUPER'S BOYS XIII.WAR AT OLMER XIV. OLD LOVERS NEWFRIENDS XV. SHOWING A SECRET FISHEDWITHOUT ANGLING XVI. ALONG TWO ROADSTO STEIGNTONBOOK 4. XVII. LADY CHARLOTTE'S TRIUMPHXVIII. A SCENE ON THE ROAD BACK XIX. THEPURSUERS XX. AT THE SIGN OF THE JOLLYCRICKETERS XXI. UNDER-CURRENTS IN THEMINDS OF LADY CHARLOTTE AND LORDORMONT XXII. TREATS OF THE FIRST DAY OFTHE CONTENTION OF BROTHER AND SISTERXXIII. THE ORMONT JEWELSBOOK 5. XXIV. LOVERS MATED XXXV.PREPARATIONS FOR A RESOLVE XXVI. VISITSOF FAREWELL XXVII. A MARINE DUET XXVIII.THE PLIGHTING XXIX. AMINTA TO HER LORDXXX. CONCLUSION
LORD ORMONT AND HISAMINTA.BOOK 1.I. LOVE AT A SCHOOL II. LADY CHARLOTTE III.THE TUTOR IV. RECOGNITIONCHAPTER I.LOVE AT A SCHOOLA procession of schoolboys having to meet aprocession of schoolgirls on the Sunday's deadmarch, called a walk, round the park, could hardlygo by without dropping to a hum in its chatter, andthe shot of incurious half-eyes the petticoatedcreatures—all so much of a swarm unless youstare at them like lanterns. The boys cast glancebecause it relieved their heaviness; things werelumpish and gloomy that day of the week. Thegirls, who sped their peep of inquisition before themoment of transit, let it be seen that they hadminds occupied with thoughts of their own.Our gallant fellows forgot the intrusion of theforeign as soon as it had passed. A sarcasticdischarge was jerked by chance at the usher andthe governess—at the old game, it seemed; or whydid they keep steering columns to meet? Therewas no fun in meeting; it would never be happeningevery other Sunday, and oftener, by sheer toss-penny accident. They were moved like pieces forthe pleasure of these two.
the pleasure of these two.Sometimes the meeting occurred twice during thestupid march-out, when it became so nearlyvexatious to boys almost biliously oppressed by thetedium of a day merely allowing them to shove thelegs along, ironically naming it animal excise, thatsome among them pronounced the sham variationof monotony to be a bothering nuisance if it wasgoing to happen every Sunday, though Sundayrequired diversions. They hated the absurdity inthis meeting and meeting; for they were obliged toanticipate it, as a part of their ignominious weeklyperformance; and they could not avoid reflectingon it, as a thing done over again: it had them infront and in rear; and it was a kind of broadsidemirror, flashing at them the exact opposite ofthemselves in an identically similar situation, thatforced a resemblance.Touching the old game, Cuper's fold was a healthyschool, owing to the good lead of the head boy,Matey Weyburn, a lad with a heart for games tobring renown, and no thought about girls. Hisemulation, the fellows fancied, was for getting theschool into a journal of the Sports. He used to readone sent him by a sporting officer of his name, andtalk enviously of public schools, printed whateverthey did—a privilege and dignity of which, they hadunrivalled enjoyment in the past, days, whenwealth was more jealously exclusive; and he wasalways prompting for challenges and saving up topay expenses; and the fellows were to laugh atkicks and learn the art of self-defence—train torejoice in whipcord muscles. The son of atradesman, if a boy fell under the imputation, wasworthy of honour with him, let the fellow but showgrip and toughness. He loathed a skulker, and hisface was known for any boy who would own tofatigue or confess himself beaten. "Go to bed,"was one of his terrible stings. Matey was good at
lessons, too—liked them; liked Latin and Greek;would help a poor stumbler.Where he did such good work was in sharpeningthe fellows to excel. He kept them to thegrindstone, so that they had no time for rustybrooding; and it was fit done by exhortations off apedestal, like St. Paul at the Athenians, it breathedout of him every day of the week. He carried a lightfor followers. Whatever he demanded of them, hehimself did it easily. He would say to boys, "You'regoing to be men," meaning something better thanwomen. There was a notion that Matey despisedgirls. Consequently, never much esteemed, theywere in disfavour. The old game was mentionedonly because of a tradition of an usher andgoverness leering sick eyes until they slunk awayround a corner and married, and set up a schoolfor themselves—an emasculate ending. Commenton it came of a design to show that the wholegame had been examined dismissed asuninteresting and profitless.One of the boys alluded in Matey's presence totheir general view upon the part played bywomankind on the stage, confident of a backing;and he had it, in a way: their noble chief whiskedthe subject, as not worth a discussion; but heturned to a younger chap, who said he detestedgirls, and asked him how about a sister at home;and the youngster coloured, and Matey took himand spun him round, with a friendly tap on theshoulder.Odd remarks at intervals caused it to be suspectedthat he had ideas concerning girls. They were highas his head above the school; and there they wereleft, with Algebra and Homer, for they were not of asort to inflame; until the boys noticed how he gaveup speaking, and fell to hard looking, though she
was dark enough to get herself named Browny. Inthe absence of a fair girl of equal height to setbeside her, Browny shone.She had a nice mouth, ready for a smile at thecorners, or so it was before Matey let her see thatshe was his mark. Now she kept her mouth asleepand her eyes half down, up to the moment of hernearing to pass, when the girl opened on him, as iflifting her eyelids from sleep to the window, a fullside—look, like a throb, and no disguise—noslyness or boldness either, not a bit of languishing.You might think her heart came quietly out.The look was like the fall of light on the hills fromthe first of morning. It lasted half a minute, and lefta ruffle for a good half- hour. Even the youngerfellows, without knowing what affected them, weremoved by the new picture of a girl, as if it had beena frontispiece of a romantic story some day to beread. She looked compelled to look, but consentingand unashamed; at home in submission; just thelook that wins observant boys, shrewd as dogs toread by signs, if they are interested in the persons.They read Browny's meaning: that Matey had onlyto come and snatch her; he was her master, andshe was a brave girl, ready to go all over the worldwith him; had taken to him as he to her, shot forshot. Her taking to the pick of the school was acapital proof that she was of the right sort. To besure, she could not much help herself.Some of the boys regretted her not being fair. But,as they felt, and sought to explain, in the mannerof the wag of a tail, with elbows and eyebrows toone another's understanding, fair girls could neverhave let fly such look; fair girls are softer, woollier,and when they mean to look serious, overdo it bycraping solemn; or they pinafore a jiggingeagerness, or hoist propriety on a chubby flaxen
grin; or else they dart an eye, or they mince andprim and pout, and are sigh-away and dying-ducky, given to girls' tricks. Browny, after all, wasthe girl for Matey.She won a victory right away and out of hand, onbehalf of her cloud-and- moon sisters, as againstthe sunny-meadowy; for slanting intermediates arenot espied of boys in anything: conquered byBrowny; they went over to her colour, equal toarguing, that Venus at her mightiest must havebeen dark, or she would not have stood acomparison with the forest Goddess of theCrescent, swanning it through a lake—on the leapfor run of the chase—watching the dart, with herhumming bow at breast. The fair are simple sugarything's, prone to fat, like broad-sops in milk; but theothers are milky nuts, good to bite, Lacedaemonianvirgins, hard to beat, putting us on our mettle; andthey are for heroes, and they can be brave. Sothese boys felt, conquered by Browny. A sneakingnative taste for the forsaken side, known torenegades, hauled at them if her image wanedduring the week; and it waned a little, but Sundayrestored and stamped it.By a sudden turn the whole upper-school had fallento thinking of girls, and the meeting on the Sundaywas a prospect. One of the day-boarders had asister in the seminary of Miss Vincent. He wasplied to obtain information concerning Browny'sname and her parents. He had it pat to hand inanswer. No parents came to see her; an auntcame now and then. Her aunt's name was notwanted. Browny's name was Aminta Farrell.Farrell might pass; Aminta was debated. Thisfemale Christian name had a foreign twang; it gavedissatisfaction. Boy after boy had a try at it, withthe same effect: you could not speak the name
without a pursing of the month and a puckering ofthe nose, beastly to see, as one little fellowreminded them on a day when Matey was in morethan common favour, topping a pitch of rapture, forclean bowling, first ball, middle stump on the kick,the best bat of the other eleven in a match; and,says this youngster, drawling, soon after thecheers and claps had subsided to business,"Aminta."He made it funny by saying it as if to himself andthe ground, in a subdued way, while he swung hisleg on a half-circle, like a skater, hands in pockets.He was a sly young rascal, innocently precociousenough, and he meant no disrespect either toBrowny or to Matey; but he had to run for it, hisdelivery of the name being so like what was in thebreasts of the senior fellows, as to the inferiority ofany Aminta to old Matey, that he set themlaughing; and Browny was on the field, to reprovethem, left of the tea-booth, with her school-mates,part of her head under a scarlet parasol.A girl with such a name as Aminta might not beexactly up to the standard of old Matey, still, if hethought her so and she had spirit, the school wasbound to subscribe; and that look of herswarranted her for taking her share in the story, likethe brigand's wife loading gnus for him while heknocks over the foremost carabineer on themountain-ledge below, who drops on his back witha hellish expression.Browny was then clearly seen all round, instead ofonly front-face, as on the Sunday in the park, whenfellows could not spy backward after passing. Thepleasure they had in seeing her all round involvedno fresh stores of observation, for none could tellhow she tied her back-hair, which was the questionput to them by a cynic of a boy, said to be queasy