Confessions of a Young Lady: Her Doings and MisdoingsMarsh, Richard
General
Confessions of a Young Lady: Her Doings and Misdoings
Marsh, Richard
England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Girls -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
She was conscious that her entry created some emotion which was akin
to surprise. There were four women. They all looked at her with
something very like astonishment; as if this pretty, graceful girl,
every inch of her unmistakably a lady, dressed in such perfect taste,
forming altogether such a pleasant picture for the eye to rest upon,
was hardly the sort of person they had expected to see. And yet she
was conscious that their amazement was not by any means of an
agreeable nature; that it did not tend to make their feeling towards
her one whit more cordial. On the contrary, in the rapid glances which
they exchanged one with the other there was a rancorous gleam which
suggested that a fresh element of personal dislike had been generated
in their bosoms by the mere sight of her.
Her entrance was followed by an interval of silence, which was broken
by Edith repeating her former assertions with such show of courage as
she was capable of.
"There has been some mistake. If you will allow me, I think I can
explain quite easily how it has happened. It is all owing to my
foolish hastiness. I am quite willing to admit that the fault has been
in great part mine."
Her offer to elucidate the situation, or, at any rate, the part which
she had played in it, made with all humility, was not greeted with any
show of heartiness. Rather the faces in front of her hardened, as if
her words added fuel to the fire of their resentment.
"You're a pretty piece, upon my word! You look a fine lady, and no
error! Anyone would think you were one, to hear you talk. You impudent
cat, to try to carry it off with us. You shut your mouth, and don't
you speak unless you're spoken to, or we'll soon shut it for you, and
don't you make any mistake, my beauty. You forget where you are, and
what you're here for."
"I assure you--"
"Catch her a clap over the jaw."
In obedience to the request, the woman who had bade her enter the room
struck her in the mouth, with her clenched fist, with such violence
that she reeled back, and all but fell to the floor. Her brain seemed
to reel in harmony with her body. Never before in the whole course of
her life had she been struck a blow. No action could have revealed to
her more clearly the sort of company she was in.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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