England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; English fiction; Families -- England -- Fiction
Then, with a stoicism that she could not believe in,
so hopelessly unreal it seemed, so utterly the negation of the tumult
within her, she settled back again at his feet to watch and not excite
him. And still his lips smiled that faint smile, and his opened eyes
grew dark and darker with meaning.
So at midnight Kirsteen found them.
CHAPTER XXX
In the early hours of his all-night sitting Felix had first only
memories, and then Kirsteen for companion.
“I worry most about Tod,” she said. “He had that look in his face when
he went off from Marrow Farm. He might do something terrible if they
ill-treat Sheila. If only she has sense enough to see and not provoke
them.”
“Surely she will,” Felix murmured.
“Yes, if she realizes. But she won't, I'm afraid. Even I have only known
him look like that three times. Tod is so gentle—passion stores itself
in him; and when it comes, it's awful. If he sees cruelty, he goes
almost mad. Once he would have killed a man if I hadn't got between
them. He doesn't know what he's doing at such moments. I wish—I wish he
were back. It's hard one can't pierce through, and see him.”
Gazing at her eyes so dark and intent, Felix thought: 'If YOU can't
pierce through—none can.'
He learned the story of the disaster.
Early that morning Derek had assembled twenty of the strongest laborers,
and taken them a round of the farms to force the strike-breakers
to desist. There had been several fights, in all of which the
strike-breakers had been beaten. Derek himself had fought three times.
In the afternoon the police had come, and the laborers had rushed with
Derek and Sheila, who had joined them, into a barn at Marrow Farm,
barred it, and thrown mangolds at the police, when they tried to force
an entrance. One by one the laborers had slipped away by a rope out of a
ventilation-hole high up at the back, and they had just got Sheila down
when the police appeared on that side, too. Derek, who had stayed to the
last, covering their escape with mangolds, had jumped down twenty feet
when he saw them taking Sheila, and, pitching forward, hit his head
against a grindstone. Then, just as they were marching Sheila and two
of the laborers away, Tod had arrived and had fallen in alongside the
policemen—he and the dog. It was then she had seen that look on his
face.
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