Married or single?, Vol. 1 (of 3)Croker, B. M. (Bithia Mary)
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Married or single?, Vol. 1 (of 3)
Croker, B. M. (Bithia Mary)
English fiction -- Irish authors
“No-o,” rather dubiously. Then he added, with a smile, “No one who
looks at your face will think of your clothes; and, indeed, Maddie,
it is not fit that such a pretty girl as you are should be travelling
alone, and third class, such a long journey.”
“Rubbish! rubbish! rubbish!” she answered emphatically. “I’ll wear a
veil, if _that_ will please you; and, indeed, no one will notice me.
If they do, they will think I am some poor girl going to a situation.
You think every one must admire what you thought pretty, you stupid
Laurence; but I heard Mrs. Kane saying the other day that I’d grown
‘awfully plain.’ And it’s not my face Mrs. Harper will notice--you may
be certain of that!”
Ten minutes later she had kissed the sleeping baby, taken leave of
Laurence, given many whispered directions to Mrs. Kane’s niece, and a
whole half-sovereign from her little fund; and then, with a beating
heart, started on foot for a distant terminus. No, she would not take
even a twopenny fare in a ’bus; she must save every penny, and she
would have plenty of rest in the train. And so she had, of a sort, on
the hard, upright seat of a crowded third-class carriage for eight
mortal hours. There is not much repose in such a situation, nor much
sleep to be obtained; and the train roared along through the inky black
night, and tore through small stations with a shriek of contempt
that shook them to their foundations, and nearly shook the teeth of
the unhappy third-class passengers out of their heads. After a whole
night’s travelling of this uneasy description, Madeline arrived at
her destination--Riverside--and quickly alighted on the platform. One
trouble was spared her--luggage.
She went and washed her face and hands, arranged her hair, shook off
some of the dust in the waiting-room, invested fourpence in a bun and
cup of coffee, and felt herself sufficiently fortified to encounter
Mrs. Harper--but not Miss Selina. Another journey by rail, a short
walk, and she found herself once more on the familiar doorstep of
Harperton House, and rang timidly.
A strange maid (who knew not the delinquencies of Miss West) opened
the door, and was evidently surprised to behold such an early visitor.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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