|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 104
"Not at all all right. That young Briggs is--"
"Of course he is. What did you expect? Let's go indoors to the
fire and Mrs. Fisher. She's all by herself."
"I cannot," said Mr. Wilkins, trying to draw back, "leave Lady
Caroline alone in the garden."
"Don't be silly, Mellersh--she isn't alone. Besides, I want to
tell you something."
"Well tell me, then."
"Indoors."
With reluctance that increased at every step Mr. Wilkins was
taken farther and farther away from Lady Caroline. He believed in his
wife now and trusted her, but on this occasion he thought she was
making a terrible mistake. In the drawing-room sat Mrs. Fisher by the
fire, and it certainly was to Mr. Wilkins, who preferred rooms and
fires after dark to gardens and moonlight, more agreeable to be in
there than out-of-doors if he could have brought Lady Caroline safely
in with him. As it was, he went in with extreme reluctance.
Mrs. Fisher, her hands folded on her lap, was doing nothing,
merely gazing fixedly into the fire. The lamp was arranged
conveniently for reading, but she was not reading. Her great dead
friends did not seem worth reading that night. They always said the
same things now--over and over again they said the same things, and
nothing new was to be got out of them any more for ever. No doubt they
were greater than any one was now, but they had this immense
disadvantage, that they were dead. Nothing further was to be expected
of them; while of the living, what might one not still expect? She
craved for the living, the developing--the crystallized and finished
wearied her. She was thinking that if only she had had a son--a son
like Mr. Briggs, a dear boy like that, going on, unfolding, alive,
affectionate, taking care of her and loving her. . .
The look on her face gave Mrs. Wilkins's heart a little twist
when she saw it. "Poor old dear," she thought, all the loneliness of
age flashing upon her, the loneliness of having outstayed one's welcome
in the world, of being in it only on sufferance, the complete
loneliness of the old childless woman who has failed to make friends.
It did seem that people could only be really happy in pairs--any sorts
of pairs, not in the least necessarily lovers, but pairs of friends,
pairs of mothers and children, of brothers and sisters--and where was
the other half of Mrs. Fisher's pair going to be found?
Mrs. Wilkins thought she had perhaps better kiss her again. The
kissing this afternoon had been a great success; she knew it, she had
instantly felt Mrs. Fisher's reaction to it. So she crossed over and
bent down and kissed her and said cheerfully, "We've come in--" which
indeed was evident.
This time Mrs. Fisher actually put up her hand and held Mrs.
Wilkins's cheek against her own--this living thing, full of affection,
of warm, racing blood; and as she did this she felt safe with the
strange creature, sure that she who herself did unusual things so
naturally would take the action quite as a matter of course, and not
embarrass her by being surprised.
Mrs. Wilkins was not at all surprised; she was delighted. "I
believe I'm the other half of her pair," flashed into her mind. "I
believe it's me, positively me, going to be fast friends with Mrs.
Fisher!"
Her face when she lifted her head was full of laughter. Too
extraordinary, the developments produced by San Salvatore. She and
Mrs. Fisher . . . but she saw them being fast friends.
"Where are the others?" asked Mrs. Fisher. "Thank you--dear,"
she added, as Mrs. Wilkins put a footstool under her feet, a footstool
obviously needed, Mrs. Fisher's legs being short.
"I see myself throughout the years," thought Mrs. Wilkins, her
eyes dancing, "bringing footstools to Mrs. Fisher. . ."
"The Roses," she said, straightening herself, "have gone into the
lower garden--I think love-making."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|