Clergy -- Fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Religious fiction
The handsomest house in the village was inhabited by a widow lady still
young enough to be called handsome, and living with sufficient show to
be supposed rich. She played a little, sang a little, sketched a little,
and talked and dressed a great deal. Some people declared that when she
was young, her complexion must have been as beautiful as that of Miss
Fanny Mowbray: but these were only the young farmers, who did not know
rouge when they saw it. This lady, whose name was Simpson, had one
little girl, a pretty little creature of eight years old, who was
sometimes petted and played with till she was completely spoiled, and
sometimes left in the nursery for days together, while her mamma was
absorbed in the perusal of a new novel or the fabrication of a new
dress.
At the next turn of the village street was the entrance to a little
place of much less pretension, but infinitely prettier, and in better
taste: this also was tenanted by a fair widow, who, had she not been
surrounded by three daughters, all taller than herself, might have
passed for being as young and as handsome as Mrs. Simpson. She was,
however, as little like her as possible in every other respect, being
subject to no caprice, remarkably simple in her dress, and her hair and
her cheeks always remaining of the colour that pleased God. This lady
had been early left a widow by the gallant and unfortunate Colonel
Richards, who lost a life in a skirmish with the native troops of India
which might have done honour to his country in a nobler field. What his
young widow endured in returning from a remote part of the country to
Madras, with her three infants and very little means, had doubtless
contributed, with the good gifts born with her, to make her what she
was; for there was a firmness and strength of mind enveloped in her
miniature frame, which seemed as if her brave husband had bequeathed to
her the legacy of his dauntless spirit to sustain her under all the
privations and misery his early death left her to encounter alone.
The character of her three girls will be easily understood hereafter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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