Free B00BKPAH8O EBOK by Shannon Winslow Page B

good students who hang upon
your every word? I ask because I well remember how resolutely I resisted my
father’s every attempt to instill in me an education. What fits I must have
given him in those days! It was only later that I came to appreciate the value
of instruction, and I like to think I have since made up for my former
indolence.”
    “That is most
commendable, sir. To answer your question, only one of my three pupils could be
rightly called a true lover of learning. The other two get by with as little
trouble about it as they can, although perhaps they will be converted in time
as you were, Mr. Collins.”
    “Yes, you
mustn’t give up; there is hope even for the most reluctant student. What I
could not abide as a child, I have since learnt to like exceedingly –
mathematics, science, novels, histories, and even plays. The one thing I cannot
quite make up my mind to enjoy is poetry. What about you, Miss Bennet? Are you
fond of all kinds of verse – Shakespeare, Cowper, and the rest of that lot?”
    “I am,
decidedly so.”
    “I wish I were
too. I read it a little as a duty, but it tells me nothing that does not vex
and weary me. Will you now think the worse of your cousin for this admission?
Has he confirmed for you what you already suspected – that he is a barbarian
after all?”
    “I would never
say so.”
    “Ah, and yet
you are thinking it.”
    Mary, flustered
at not being sure if he spoke in jest or in earnest, answered with the simple
truth. “Not at all. I was thinking that any man who can write as you do could
never be thought a barbarian.”
    “Indeed? I
thank you for the compliment, but you presume more than you know. Although I do
compose a tolerably good letter – a talent you have had no opportunity to
verify – the only other time I put pen to paper is to scribble entries into a
business ledger. That will hardly serve to establish me as a gentleman.”
    It had been a
stupid blunder on her part, which she now did her best to disguise. “You are
correct, of course; I am in no position to judge. I only meant that, by the way
you express yourself in speech, I assumed you would write at least as well.”
    “Now, there I
must caution you, Miss Bennet. Trusting assumptions is nearly as perilous as
depending on rumor and wild imaginings, something you said you never do.”
    Mary only
nodded her assent and then turned the conversation to another line, reminding
Mr. Tristan of her interest in hearing something of America.
    Apparently
pleased by the renewed request, Mr. Collins talked at some length on the
subject. He began by assuring his cousin that, although there were vast,
untamed regions farther west, the part of Virginia from whence he came was
quite civilized indeed, the last of the red Indians having decamped decades
earlier.
    “I own a wheat
farm, and some livestock on the side, which I have built up from modest
beginnings. It is a sizable and rather profitable enterprise now, I am happy to
say. I have left it all in the care of my good friend Calvin Beam. He and his
sister…” Tristan trailed off.
    “His sister?”
said Mary, prompting him to continue.
    “Yes, his
sister. Polly is her name. They have the farm adjoining mine, and were some of
the very first people I met when I arrived in the Shenandoah Valley, fresh from
the boat, as you might say. They took me under their wings.”
    Mary waited for
him to continue. When he did not, she volunteered, “It must have been difficult
to leave such good friends behind in order to come here.”
    He seemed to
remember himself and returned his attention to his companion. “True enough,
Miss Bennet, but then sometimes one has to turn one’s back on the past in order
to make a new start. Do not you agree?”
    “I hardly know
how to answer you, Mr. Collins. I suppose I can envision circumstances that
would make it necessary or desirable to begin again elsewhere. If that be your
situation, however, do you mean to sell your holdings in