Kit and Kitty: A Story of West MiddlesexBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
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Kit and Kitty: A Story of West Middlesex
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Middlesex (England) -- Fiction
As it happened now, my mind was full of a certain bed of onions, which
had grown so rank and sappy, that we had not dared to harvest them.
And instead of right thoughts upon entering church, I was saying to
myself—“We shall have a dry week, I do believe. I will pull them
to-morrow, and chance it.” This will show that what now befell me came
without any fault of mine.
For just as the last bell struck its stroke, and the ringer swang down
on the heel of it, and the murmur went floating among the trees, I drew
back a little to let the women pass, having sense of their feeling
about their dresses, which is to be respected by every man. And in
those days they wore lovely flounces, like a bee-hive trimmed with
Venetian blinds. They had learned a fine manner of twitching up these,
whenever they came to steps and stairs; and while they were at it, they
always looked round, to make sure of no disarrangement. My respect for
them made me gaze over their heads, as if without knowledge of their
being there at all. Yet they whispered freely to one another, desiring
to know if their ribands were right for the worship of the Almighty.
Now as I gazed in a general style, being timid about looking
especially, there came into my eyes, without any sense of moment, but
stealing unawares as in a vision, the fairest and purest and sweetest
picture that ever went yet from the eyes to the heart. To those who
have never known the like, it is hopeless to try to explain it; and
even to myself I cannot render, by word or by thought, a mere jot of
it. And many would say, that to let things so happen, the wits for the
time must be out of their duty.
It may have been only a glance, or a turn of the head, or the toss of
a love-lock—whatever it was, for me the world was a different place
thereafter. It was a lovely and gentle face, making light in the gloom
of the tower arch, and touched with no thought of its own appearance,
as other pretty faces were. I had never dreamed that any maiden could
have said so much to me, as now came to me without a word.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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