The Late Miss HollingfordGilbert, Rosa M. (Rosa Mulholland)
General
The Late Miss Hollingford
Gilbert, Rosa M. (Rosa Mulholland)
Ireland -- Fiction
"I was thinkin' ye'd be a bit staggered by the news, miss," he said,
"an' I put the mare to this ould shandheradan. It's not very fit for a
lady, bad manners to it! but it'll be betther nor the slippery roads
undher yer feet."
I do not know how the drive passed. I remember saying once to Pat,
"Are they quite, quite sure that Mr. Hollingford was--was--"
"No indeed, miss," was the answer, "sorra sure at all. They do say he
was in the coach, but no wan seen him dead, as far as I can hear tell."
I made the man set me down at the farm gate, and walked up the avenue
just as the early moonlight was beginning to light up the frosty world.
As I came near the door, I fancied I heard crying and wailing; but it
was only Mopsie singing in the hall. Behind the parlour window I saw
Jane stepping about briskly in the firelight, arranging the table for
tea. All was quiet and peaceful as when I had left the place two hours
before.
CHAPTER V.
The children followed me to my room, wondering where I could have been
so late. I said I was tired, and begged them to leave me alone. Then I
locked my door, and a solitary hour of anguish passed. The fever of
uncertainty would not let me weep; I suffered without much sign, but in
such a degree as I had never dreamed of before.
There was something horrible that I had to realise and could not. John
hurt and dying away from his home, without one by to comfort him,
without his mother's blessing, without a whisper to tell him that I had
loved him and would mourn for him all my life! John vanished from the
earth--lost to us for ever! The sickly moonlight fell about me with a
ghastly peace, and the horror of death froze my heart.
Tea-hour arrived, and the girls knocked at the door. Mrs. Hollingford
came to me, questioning me anxiously, and pressing my burning temples
between her cool palms; and there I lay under her hands, crushed with my
cruel secret. I could not tell it. Not that night. When the worst must
be known it would be my place to help them all in their agony; and was I
fit for such a task now? Besides, there was still a hope, and I clung to
it with wild energy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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