Married women -- Fiction; Staffordshire (England) -- Fiction
As the train rushed smoothly across the vast and rich plain of Middle
England, Leonora's thoughts dwelt on the house at Hillport, on her
skilled and sympathetic servants, on Prince and Bran, and on the calm
and the orderliness and the high decency of everything. And she pictured
the homecoming of Ethel and Fred from Wales--Fred stiff and nervous,
and Ethel flushed, beautiful, and utterly bewitching in the
self-consciousness of the bride. 'May I call her Mrs. Fred, ma'am?'
Bessie had asked, recoiling from the formality of 'Mrs. Ryley,' and
aware that 'Miss Ethel' was no longer possible. Leonora saw them in the
dining-room consuming the tea which Bessie had determined should be the
final word of teas; and she saw Bessie, in that perfect black of hers
and that miraculous muslin, waiting at table with a superlative and cold
primness that covered a desire to take Ethel in her arms and kiss her.
And she saw the pair afterwards, dallying on the lawn with Bran at dusk,
simple, unambitious, unassuming, content; and, still later, Fred
meticulously locking up the great house, so much too large and
complicated for one timid couple, and Ethel standing at the top of the
stairs as he extinguished the hall-gas. These visions of them made her
feel sad--sad because Ethel could never again be that which she had
been, and because she was so young, inexperienced, confiding, and
beautiful, and would gradually grow old and lose the ineffable grace of
her years and situation; and because they were both so innocent of the
meaning of life. Leonora yearned for some magic to stay the destructive
hand of time and keep them ever thus, young, naïve, trustful, and
unspoilt. And knowing that this could not be, she wanted intensely to
shield, and teach, and advise them. She whispered, thinking of Ethel:
'Ah! I must always be near, within reach, within call, lest she should
need me.'
'Mother, shall you go with me to see Mr. Louis Lewis to-morrow?' Milly
demanded suddenly when the train halted at Rugby.
'Yes, of course, dear. Don't you wish me to?'
'Oh! I don't mind,' said Milly grandly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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