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
When I got up into my room to dress for dinner I was a mixture of
feelings. It would not have needed much to have made me sneak down the
stairs, and out of the house, and back to the station, if I had been
sure of getting safely away. I could not say exactly what I had
expected, but I certainly had not expected this. Philip had always
made such a fuss of me, that, I fear, I had taken it for granted that,
under the circumstances, his people would make a fuss of me too.
Instead of which they had received me with a take-it-for-granted air,
as if they had known me for years and years; and then had promptly
proceeded to make me feel so unutterably small, that I was almost
inclined to wish that I had never been born.
I hated to be made small. I hated games. I hated--during those
moments, in which I was tearing off my frock, I nearly felt as if I
hated everything. But just in time, it was borne in to me how wicked I
was. It was not their fault if I was a little donkey; it was my own.
They were not to blame if I had allowed my education to be neglected,
and had not properly appreciated the paramount importance of tennis,
and ping-pong, and golf, and all the other, to my mind, somewhat
exasperating exercises which came under the generic heading of
"games." As I proceeded with my toilette, and surveyed the result in
the mirror, my spirit became calmer. At least they none of them looked
better than I did. I might not be such an expert, but I certainly was
not uglier than they were. And that was something. Besides, I was
young, and strong, and healthy, and active. If I set myself to do it,
it was quite within the range of possibility that I might become a
match for them even at tennis and ping-pong. I did not believe that I
was such a duffer as I had seemed.
No one could have been nicer than they were when I went down into the
drawing-room; Miss Reeves actually was so nice that she took my breath
away. They stared as I entered; then broke into a chorus.
"Well," began Bertha, with that outspokenness which seemed a family
characteristic, "one thing's sure and certain--you'll be the beauty of
the family. We shall have to show you as an illustration of what we
can achieve in that direction. You look a perfect picture."
"A dream of loveliness!" cried Miss Reeves. "Now, if I were a man,
you're just the sort of girl I'd like to marry. Even as a mere girl
I'd like to kiss you."
She put her hands lightly on my bare shoulders, and she did kiss
me--on both cheeks, and on the lips--there and then. It was most
bewildering. I had not looked for that sort of thing from her. But Mrs
Sanford's words warmed the very cockles of my heart.
"If you are as delightful as you look, my dear, that boy of mine ought
to be a very happy fellow."
No woman had ever spoken to me like that before. It filled me with a
delightful glow--made me even bold. I went close up to her, and I
whispered--
"I should like to make him happy."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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