The Canadian: Photoplay title of The Land of Promise — John Shaqi
The Canadian: Photoplay title of The Land of PromiseMaugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
General
The Canadian: Photoplay title of The Land of Promise
Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
Attitude change -- Fiction; Canada -- Fiction; Farm life -- Fiction; Husband and wife -- Fiction
As Kate closed the door behind her, Nora advanced to meet her friend
from the doorway with her pretty smile and outstretched hand. Miss
Pringle kissed her warmly and then drew her down on a large sofa by her
side. Her glance had a certain note of disapproval as it took in her
friend's black dress, which did not escape that observant young person.
"I was so glad to hear you were coming to me this afternoon; it is good
of you. How did you escape the dragon?"
She had long ago nicknamed the excellent Mrs. Hubbard 'the dragon'
simply to tease Miss Pringle.
"Mrs. Hubbard has gone for a drive with somebody or other and didn't
want me," said Miss Pringle primly. "You haven't been crying, Nora?"
"Yes, I couldn't help it. My dear, it's not unnatural."
Miss Pringle dropped the hand she had been stroking to clasp both her
own over the handle of her umbrella. "Well, I don't like to say anything
against her now she's dead, poor thing, but Miss Wickham was the most
detestable old woman I ever met."
"Still," said Nora slowly, looking toward the French window which opened
on the garden, at the sun streaming through the drawn blinds, "I don't
suppose one can live so long with anyone and not be a little sorry to
part with them forever. I was Miss Wickham's companion for ten years."
"How you stood it! Exacting, domineering, disagreeable!"
"Yes, I suppose she was. Because she paid me a salary, she thought I
wasn't a human being. I certainly never knew anyone with such a bitter
tongue. At first I used to cry every night when I went to bed because of
the things she said to me. But I got used to them."
"I wonder you didn't leave her. I would have." Miss Pringle attempting
to delude herself with the idea that she was a mettlesome, high-spirited
person who would stand no nonsense, was immensely diverting to Nora. To
hide an irrepressible smile, she went over to a bowl of roses which
stood on one of the little tables and pretended to busy herself with
their rearrangement.
"Posts as lady's companions are not so easy to find, I fancy. At least I
remember that when I got this one I was thought to be extremely lucky
not to have to wait twice as long. I don't imagine things have bettered
much in our line, do you?"
"That they have not," rejoined Miss Pringle gloomily. "They tell me the
agents' books are full of people wanting situations. Before I went to
Mrs. Hubbard I was out of one for nearly two years." Her voice shook a
little at the recollection. Her poor, tired, weather-beaten face
quivered as if she were about to cry.
"It's not so had for you," said Nora soothingly. "You can always go and
stay with your brother."
"You've a brother, too."
"Ah, yes. But he's farming in Canada. He has all he could do to keep
himself. He couldn't keep me, too."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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