John, A Love Story; vol. 1 of 2Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
John, A Love Story; vol. 1 of 2
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fiction; Love stories
is blue and white and rose all at once. “Am I nice?” she said to the
bewildered Parsons; who replied only by a bewildered exclamation of
“Oh, miss!” and then Kate turned, poising herself for one moment on
her heel in uncertainty. She took one of John’s roses and placed it in
her belt; and then, with a little wave of her handkerchief, and, as it
were, flourish of trumpets, she opened her door and stepped forth into
the unknown.
Here let us pause for a moment. To step for the first time into a new
country is thrilling to the inexperienced traveller; but to put your
foot into a new house,--a place which is utterly strange to you, and
yet which you are free to penetrate through as if it were your own--to
take your chance of stumbling against people whom you know intimately
and yet have no acquaintance with--to set out on a voyage of discovery
into the most intimate domestic shrines, with no light but that of
your own genius to guide you,--is more thrilling still. Kate stepped
briskly over the threshold of her own room, and then she paused aghast
at her own audacity. The cold silence of the unknown hushed her back as
if she had been on an expedition into the arctic regions. She paused,
and her heart gave a loud beat. Should she retire into the ascertained
and lawful place from which Parsons was watching with a face of
consternation, or should she go on? But no! never!--put it in Parson’s
power to taunt her with a retreat--that could not be! She gave another
little wave of her handkerchief, as if it had been her banner, and went
on.
But it must be avowed that when she was out of sight of Parsons and her
own room, Kate paused again and panted, and clung to the banisters,
looking down the broad, handsome staircase. She could see down into
the hall, with all its closed doors, looking so silent, so strange, so
suggestive. She did not know what she would find there; and nobody knew
her or expected her. A distant sound from the kitchen, Lizzie’s hearty,
youthful laugh, struck with a consolatory sound upon her ear. But
alas! she was not bound to the kitchen, where she had friends, but to
investigate those closed doors, with such wonders as might be within.
She clung to the great polished oak banister for a moment, feeling her
heart beat; and then, “courage!” cried Kate, and launched herself into
the unknown world below stairs.
CHAPTER III.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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