Gothic fiction; Guardian and ward -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
I would do my best, I said, untying my bonnet. But Mr. Rutledge
peremptorily interfered.
"By no means, Mrs. Roberts. She has been writing two hours already for
me; she must have nothing more at present," and he walked on toward the
door.
But the housekeeper was by no means vanquished, and clung tenaciously to
my offer. She was sure, she said, the young lady would be glad to
oblige an old woman. And duty so plainly pointed that way, that I
wavered no longer. I had made up my mind to be kind to Mrs. Roberts;
here was the chance to carry my good resolutions into effect. Throwing
my bonnet into a chair, I said:
"If you will excuse me from walking with you, Mr. Rutledge, I will see
what I can do to help Mrs. Roberts."
"I cannot excuse you," he replied, with decision. "I do not think it
best for you to be confined to the house any longer at present."
"Oh," I exclaimed, while Mrs. Roberts looked on anxiously, "I have been
used to studying and writing nine hours out of the twenty-four at
school, and this morning's business has been mere play. I shall not
think of feeling tired for hours yet, so please do not make any
objections. Come, Mrs. Roberts," I continued, going toward the stairs,
and giving her a little nod.
She hesitated, and I saw her glance uneasily at Mr. Rutledge. I now
perceived that he was more than vexed; but I was strong enough to dare
even that, when I was as certain as I now was about what I ought to do.
He naturally, I thought, didn't like to have his wishes interfered with;
but that could not alter the right for me, "and he cannot help but see
that when he thinks it over." So again summoning Mrs. Roberts, I excused
myself to him, and ran upstairs, followed lumberingly by the
housekeeper, while the hall door closed, with no gentle emphasis,
between us and the sunny autumn morning.
I am only doing Mrs. Roberts justice, when I say that on that particular
occasion, she manifested diplomatic talents, which, in another sphere of
life, would have won her no inconsiderable place. I had not given her
credit for the tact and acuteness that developed themselves that
morning, and which, added to her well-known decision and unalterable
devotion to the one idea that happened to be uppermost, formed the
elements of a character I had not sufficiently looked up to. This, of
course, I did not appreciate at first, and went at my task with the
kindest desire to get Mrs. Roberts out of her perplexity, and unravel
the tangled threads of Dorothy's arithmetical inaccuracies.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account