Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Mrs. Hyler was, I think, the most disconcerting person in this
uncomfortable family. Her manner toward them was that of a moderately
devoted housekeeper--head nurse, who presumed slightly by reason of her
long service. The last scant drop of kindness--the last ray of warmth
of affection--I dare not use a stronger word--was for her Linda! But we
must remember that for four and twenty years she had listened to what
the Rev. Hyler “was going to do,” and had suffered from what the Rev.
Hyler “did not do,” and there was no hope left in her.
I shall not introduce her sons individually, but will simply state
that between the Spanish-looking eldest one--brave, loyal, honest and
kind--and the impish youngest, with the face of a blond seraph and
a heart like a nether mill-stone, there were five others, each one
striving to be--or so it seemed--as unlike his brothers as possible. In
all their lives they had found but two subjects they could agree upon;
on these, however, they were as one boy. Their honest, hearty love for
“Sister Linda” was one subject, and a fixed determination to “get even”
with their father was the other.
Linda Hyler loved music profoundly, and she had not only natural
talent, but powers of concentration and a capacity for hard work
that might have made an artist of her. And the poor child had had
her opportunity--for one with means and power and the inclination to
use them, attracted by the purity and volume of her voice and by her
earnest ambition, had offered to assist her to that stern training,
so difficult in those days to obtain, even when one had the money to
pay for it. But if she had talent, she also had a father, and he with
the bitter taste seemingly strong in his mouth, refused the kindly
offer, giving no nobler reason for his act than that “she was his only
daughter and he would miss her far too much.” She pleaded with him in
vain, and had the pain of seeing her one opportunity float away from
her, taking on, as it went, all the airy grace, all the glancing
beauty of a bubble floating in the sunshine.
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account