Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Nature -- Fiction; Triangles (Interpersonal relations) -- Fiction; Wales -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
'According to natural history she may be, but in my sight she's a bad
dog.' She shut her door with an air of finality.
'The old lady canna'd abear Foxy,' said Hazel. 'Nobody likes Foxy.'
She was stubbornly determined that the world bore her a grudge because
she loved Foxy. Perhaps she had discovered that the world has a sharp
sword for the vulnerable, and that love is easily wounded.
'Don't call mother the old lady, dear.'
'Well, she is. And she says animals has got no souls. She'm only got a
little small 'un herself.'
'Hazel!'
'Well, it's God's truth.'
'Why?'
'If she'd got a nice tidy bit herself, she'd know Foxy'd got one, too.
Now I've got a shimmy with lace on, I know lots of other girls sure to
have 'em. Afore I couldna have believed it.'
Edward could find no reply to this.
'Are you happy here, Hazel?' he asked.
'Ah! I be.'
'You don't miss--'
'Father? Not likely!' She looked up with her clear golden eyes. 'You'm
mother and father both!'
'Only that, dear?'
'Brother.'
'You've forgotten one, Hazel--husband.' His eyes were wistful. 'And
lover, perhaps, some day,' he added. 'Good night, dear.'
She lifted a childish mouth, grateful and ready to be affectionate. Too
ready, he thought. He looked so eagerly for shyness--a flicker of the
eyelids, a mounting flush. He was no fool, nor was he in the least
ascetic. In his dreamy life before Hazel came, he had thought of a sane
and manly and normal future when he thought of it at all. Now he found
that the reality was not like his dreams. The saneness and manliness
were still needed, but the joy had gone, or at least was veiled.
'It will come all right,' he told himself, and waited. His face took
an expression of suspense. He was like one that watches, rapt, for
the sunrise. Only the sun stayed beneath the horizon. He called
Hazel in his mind by the country name for wood-sorrel--the Sleeping
Beauty. He left her to sleep as long as she would. He kept a hand
on himself, and never tried to waken her by easier ways than through
the spirit--through the senses, or vanity, or by taking advantages
of his superior intellect.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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