Maid Marian, and Other StoriesSeawell, Molly Elliot
General
Maid Marian, and Other Stories
Seawell, Molly Elliot
Manners and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, American
Priscilla's beauty was of that shadowy and spiritual kind that it
took a good while to find out that she was a beauty at all. Certainly
Priscilla's sisters, the Misses Mildmay, had sublime faith in
Priscilla's charms; but the poor girl herself had spent so much of
her twenty-five years of life trying to conform to the standard of
behavior inculcated in the Misses Mildmay's boarding and day school
for young ladies and little girls that it had robbed her of that
delicious and ingenuous vanity which is the glorious inheritance
of pretty young things of her gender. The Misses Mildmay lived in
an imposing four-story brick mansion in a street of the sternest
respectability; there was not a suspicion of the shop in the stately
front door, and the heavily draped windows bore no advertising sign.
The tall man-servant who opened the door was loftily oblivious to the
pupils who sneaked in by the garden way. The Misses Mildmay had made
money in their school--and it was all for Priscilla. Had this youngest
birdling in the dove-cote been like her elder sisters, nothing could
have been better contrived than the scheme of happiness proposed to
her. But unfortunately Priscilla was no more a Mildmay than she was a
Montmorency or a Condé. It is true that she conformed outwardly to the
Mildmay model, but Nature's original Priscilla was a merry, fiery young
creature with peachy cheeks and a perpetual smile and a good appetite.
All these things, however, were kept in abeyance--particularly her
color and her appetite. Had that dignified footman been cut up into
juicy chops for Priscilla's breakfast, and that mahogany door been
made into rich soups for Priscilla's dinner, she would no doubt have
lost some of that pretty pallor, that pathetic look out of her dark
eyes. But the income of the Misses Mildmay did not admit of the footman
and the mahogany door and the juicy chops and rich soups too, so they
skimped on the dinners, skimped on the amusements, skimped on all those
vanities that had never had any charms for them, but which Mother
Nature, who is obstinate as well as perverse, had meant for the younger
sister.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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