Erema; Or, My Father's SinBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
History
Erema; Or, My Father's Sin
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
California -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
“I can not tell you now, my dear, exactly how things followed. My
mind was gone all hollow with the sudden shock upon it. However, I had
thought enough to make no noise immediate, nor tell the other foolish
girls, who would have set up bellowing. Having years to deal with little
ones brings knowledge of the rest to us. I think that I must have gone
to master's door, where Susan's orders were to put his shaving water
in a tin, and fetched him out, with no disturbance, only in his
dressing-gown. And when I told him what it was, his rosy color turned
like sheets, and he just said, 'Hush!' and nothing more. And guessing
what he meant, I ran and put my things on properly.
“But having time to think, the shock began to work upon me, and I was
fit for nothing when I saw the children smiling up with their tongues
out for their bread and milk, as they used to begin the day with. And
I do assure you, Miss Erema, my bitterest thought was of your coming,
though unknown whether male or female, but both most inconvenient then,
with things in such a state of things. You have much to answer for,
miss, about it; but how was you to help it, though?
“The tool-shed door was too narrow to let the hurdle and the body in,
and finding some large sea-kale pots standing out of use against the
door, the two men (who were tired with the weight and fright, I dare
say) set down their burden upon these, under a row of hollyhocks, at the
end of the row of bee-hives. And here they wiped their foreheads with
some rags they had for handkerchiefs, or one of them with his own
sleeve, I should say, and, gaining their breath, they began to talk with
the boldness of the sunrise over them. But Mr. Rural Polishman, as
he was called in those parts, was walking up and down on guard, and
despising of their foolish words.
“My master, the Captain, your father, miss, came out of a window and
down the cross-walk, while I was at the green door peeping, for I
thought that I might be wanted, if only to take orders what was to be
done inside. The constable stiffly touched his hat, and marched to the
head of the hurdle, and said,
“'Do you know this gentleman?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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