It was summer again, and on the broad grassy street of Seaforth the
sunshine poured in its full power. The place lay silent under the heat
of mid-day; not a breath stirred the leaves of the big elms, and no
passing wheels stirred the dust of the roadway, which was ready to rise
at any provocation. It was very dry, and very hot. Yet at Seaforth
those two facts, though proclaimed from everybody's mouth, must be
understood with a qualification. The heat and the dryness were not as
elsewhere. So near the sea as the town was, a continual freshness came
from thence in vapours and cool airs, and mitigated what in other
places was found oppressive. However, the Seaforth people said it was
oppressive too; and things are so relative in the affairs of life that
I do not know if they were more contented than their neighbours. But
everybody said the heat was fine for the hay; and as most of the
inhabitants had more or less of that crop to get in, they criticised
the weather only at times when they were thinking of it in some other
connection.
At Mrs. Dallas's there was no criticism of anything. In the large
comfortable rooms, where windows were all open, and blinds tempering
the too ardent light, and cool mats on the floors, and chintz furniture
looked light and summery, there was an atmosphere of pure enjoyment and
expectation, for Pitt was coming home again, and his mother was looking
for him with every day. She was sitting now awaiting him; no one could
tell at what hour he might arrive; and his mother's face was beautiful
with hope. She was her old self; not changed at all by the four or five
years of Pitt's absence; as handsome and as young and as stately as
ever. She made no demonstration now; did not worry either herself or
others with questions and speculations and hopes and fears respecting
her son's coming; yet you could see on her fine face, if you were
clever at reading faces, the lines of pride and joy, and now and then a
quiver of tenderness. It was seen by one who was sitting with her,
whose interest and curiosity it involuntarily moved.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account