Family life -- Fiction; Farm life -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction
Jane had not spoken during the meal, but kept her eyes on Holcroft,
except when he looked toward her, and then she instantly averted her
gaze. When she was alone with her mother, she said abruptly, "We aint
a-goin' to stay here long, nuther."
"Why not?" was the sharp, responsive query.
"'Cause the same look's comin' into his face that was in Cousin
Lemuel's and Cousin Abiram's and all the rest of 'em. 'Fi's you I'd
keep still now. 'Pears to me they all want you to keep still and you
won't."
"Jane," said Mrs. Mumpson in severe tones, "you're an ignorant child.
Don't presume to instruct ME! Besides, this case is entirely
different. Mr. Holcroft must be made to understand from the start that
I'm not a common woman--that I'm his equal, and in most respects his
superior. If he aint made to feel this, it'll never enter his
head--but law! There's things which you can't and oughtn't to
understand."
"But I do," said the girl shortly, "and he won't marry you, nor keep
you, if you talk him to death."
"Jane!" gasped Mrs. Mumpson, as she sank into the chair and rocked
violently.
The night air was keen and soon drove Holcroft into the house. As he
passed the kitchen window, he saw that Mrs. Mumpson was in his wife's
rocking chair and that Jane was clearing up the table.
He kindled a fire on the parlor hearth, hoping, but scarcely expecting,
that he would be left alone.
Nor was he very long, for the widow soon opened the door and entered,
carrying the chair. "Oh, you are here," she said sweetly. "I heard the
fire crackling, and I do so love open wood fires. They're company in
themselves, and they make those who bask in the flickering blaze
inclined to be sociable. To think of how many long, lonely evenings
you have sat here when you had persons in your employ with whom you
could have no affinity whatever! I don't see how you stood it. Under
such circumstances life must cloud up into a dreary burden." It never
occurred to Mrs. Mumpson that her figures of speech were often mixed.
She merely felt that the sentimental phase of conversation must be very
flowery. But during the first evening she had resolved on prudence.
"Mr. Holcroft shall have time," she thought, "for the hope to steal
into his heart that his housekeeper may become something more to him
than housekeeper--that there is a nearer and loftier relation."
Meanwhile she was consumed with curiosity to know something about the
"persons" previously employed and his experiences with them. With a
momentary, and, as she felt, a proper pause before descending to
ordinary topics, she resumed, "My dear Mr. Holcroft, no doubt it will
be a relief to your overfraught mind to pour into a symperthetic ear
the story of your troubles with those--er--those peculiar females
that--er--that--"
"Mrs. Mumpson, it would be a much greater relief to my mind to forget
all about 'em," he replied briefly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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