Christian fiction; Scotland -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"She may take herself away, then. I had not thought of parting with
her, but I should not be at all sorry if she went. She would be no loss
to me."
"Why should you keep her, then?"
"Because one is just as good--and as bad as another. She knows my ways,
and I prefer not having to break in a new one. It is a bore to have to
say how you like everything done."
"But you are speaking now as if you meant it," said Mary, waking up to
the fact that Hesper's tone was of business, and she no longer seemed
half playing with the proposal. "_Do_ you mean you want me to come and
live with you?"
"Indeed, I do," answered Hesper, emphatically. "You shall have a room
close to my bedroom, and there you shall do as you like all day long;
and, when I want you, I dare say you will come."
"Fast enough," said Mary, cheerily, as if all was settled. In contrast
with her present surroundings, the prospect was more than attractive.
"--But would you let me have my piano?" she asked, with sudden
apprehension.
"You shall have my grand piano always when I am out, which will be
every night in the season, I dare say. That will give you plenty of
practice; and you will be able to have the best of lessons. And think
of the concerts and oratorios you will go to!"
As she spoke, the carriage drew up at the door of the shop, and Mary
took her leave. Hesper accepted her acknowledgments in the proper style
of a benefactress, and returned her good-by kindly. But not yet did she
shake hands with her.
Some of my readers may wonder that Mary should for a moment dream of
giving up what they would call her independence; for was she not on her
own ground in the shop of which she was a proprietor? and was the
change proposed, by whatever name it might be called, anything other
than _service_? But they are outside it, and Mary was in it, and knew
how little such an independence was worth the name. Almost everything
about the shop had altered in its aspect to her. The very air she
breathed in it seemed slavish. Nor was the change in her. The whole
thing was growing more and more sordid, for now--save for her part--the
one spirit ruled it entirely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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