England -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction; Teachers -- Fiction
Most inopportunely then the bell began to ring for afternoon-school,
and, most inopportunely also, he was due to take five _beta_ in drawing.
They clambered down the ladder, chatting vivaciously the while, and at
the vestry door, when they separated she said eagerly: "Oh, I've had
_such_ a good time, Mr. Speed. Haven't you?"
"Rather!" he answered, with boyish emphasis and enthusiasm.
That afternoon hour, spent bewilderingly with five _beta_ in the
art-room that was full of plaster casts and free-hand models and framed
reproductions of famous pictures, went for Speed like the passage of a
moment. His heart and brain were tingling with excitement, teeming with
suppressed consciousness. The green of the lawns as he looked out of the
window seemed greener than ever before; the particles of dust that shone
in the shafts of sunlight seemed to him each one mightily distinct; the
glint of a boy's golden hair in the sunshine was, to his eyes, like a
patch of flame that momentarily put all else in a haze. It seemed to
him, passionately and tremendously, that for the first time in his life
he was alive; more than that even: it seemed to him that for the first
time since the beginning of all things life had come shatteringly into
the world.
III
"I should think, Mr. Speed, you have found out by now whether Helen
likes you or not."
Those words of Clare Harrington echoed in his ears as he walked amidst
the dappled sunlight on the Millstead road. They echoed first of all in
the quiet tones in which Clare had uttered them; next, they took on a
subtle, meaningful note of their own; finally, they submerged all else
in a crescendo of passionate triumph. Speed was almost stupefied by
their gradually self-revealing significance. He strode on faster, dug
his heels more decisively into the dust of the roadside; he laughed
aloud; his walking-stick pirouetted in a joyful circle. To any passer-by
he must have seemed a little mad. And all because of a few words that
Clare Harrington, riding along the lane on her bicycle, had stopped to
say to him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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