That Lass o' Lowrie's by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Author:Frances Hodgson Burnett [Burnett, Frances]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

19. Ribbons

The light in the cottage upon the Knoll Road burned late in these days, and when Derrick was delayed in the little town, he used to see it twinkle afar off, before he turned the bend of the road on his way home. He liked to see it. It became a sort of beacon light, and as such he began to watch for it. He used to wonder what Joan was doing, and he glanced in through the curtainless windows as he passed by. Then he discovered that when the light shone she was at work. Sometimes she was sitting at the wooden table with a book, sometimes she was laboring at some task with pen and ink, sometimes she was trying to use her needle.

She had applied to Anice for instruction in this last effort. It was not long before Anice found that she was intent upon acquiring the womanly arts her life had put it out of her power to learn.

“I’d loike to learn to sew a bit,” she had said, and the confession seemed awkward and reluctant “I want to learn to do a bit o’ woman’s work. I’m tired o’ bein’ neyther th’ one thing nor th’ other. Seems loike I’ve allus been doin’ men’s ways, an’ I am na content.”

Two or three times Derrick saw her passing to and fro before the window, hushing the child in her arms, and once he even heard her singing to it in a low, and evidently rarely used voice. Up to the time that Joan first sang to the child, she had never sung in her life. She caught herself one day half chanting a lullaby she had heard Anice sing. The sound of her own voice was so novel to her, that she paused all at once in her walk across the room, prompted by a queer impulse to listen.

“It moight ha’ been somebody else,” she said. “I wonder what made me do it. It wur a queer thing.”

Sometimes Derrick met Joan entering the Rectory (at which both were frequent visitors); sometimes, passing through the hall on her way home; but however often he met her, he never felt that he advanced at all in her friendship.

On one occasion, having bidden Anice goodnight and gone out on the staircase, Joan stepped hurriedly back into the room and stood at the door as if waiting.

“What is it?” Anice asked.

Joan started. She had looked flushed and downcast, and when Anice addressed her, an expression of conscious self-betrayal fell upon her.

“It is Mester Derrick,” she answered, and in a moment she went out.

Anice remained seated at the table, her hands clasped before her.

“Perhaps,” at last she said aloud, “perhaps this is what is to be done with her. And then—” her lips tremulous,—“it will be a work for me to do.”

Derrick’s friendship and affection for herself held no germ of warmer feeling. If she had had the slightest doubt of this, she would have relinquished nothing. She had no exaggerated notions of self-immolation.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.