Christian life; Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Young women -- Conduct of life -- Fiction
By this time we had reached the door, and Dr ---- knocked loudly. No
answer came, though the sounds of busy feet were heard within, and
lights glanced swiftly across the windows. After another vigorous
assault upon the knocker, the door was opened by a panting maid-servant;
in time to exhibit the descent of my hostess from a stool which she had
mounted, as it appeared, to light a lamp that hung from the ceiling.
Snatching off a checked apron, which she threw into a corner, she
advanced to receive me. 'Miss Percy!' she cried, 'I am so glad to see
you!--Doctor, I had no notion you could have got back so soon;--and
indeed ma'am I am quite proud that you will accept of such
accommodations as--Lord bless me, girl! did ever any body see such a
candlestick?--This way ma'am, if you please,--To bring up a thing like
that before strangers!'
During this miscellaneous oration, I had made my way into the parlour,
and taken possession of the first seat I could find. But this was too
natural an arrangement of things to satisfy my good hostess. 'Oh dear!
Miss Percy,' said she, 'you are quite in the way of the door,--pray take
this side; Doctor, can't you give Miss Percy that chair?'
At last the turmoil of placing us was over; and the good lady was
compelled to be quiet for a little. The scenes which I had lately
witnessed, the sense of being a stranger in what was now my only home,
depressed my spirits; yet good manners inclined me to enter into
conversation with my hostess. I soon found, however, that this was, for
the present, out of the question; for though, under a sense of duty, she
frequently spoke to her guest, my replies evidently escaped her powers
of attention, these being occupied by certain sounds proceeding from the
kitchen. For a while she kept fidgeting upon her chair, looking
wistfully towards the door; her politeness maintaining doubtful strife
with her anxieties. At last a crash of crockery overcame her
self-denial, and she ran out of the room.
Our ears were presently invaded by all the discords of wrath and hurry;
but the Doctor, who seemed accustomed to such tumults, quietly drew his
chair close to mine, and began to discuss the merits of a late
publication, repeating his remarks with immovable patience, as often as
they were lost in the din. At length, however, he was touched in a
tender point; for now an audible kick produced a howl from the old
house-dog. The Doctor started up, took three strides across the room,
wiped his forehead, and sat down again. 'I thank Heaven,' said he, 'that
the children are all in bed,'--and he went on with his criticism.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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