Marriage -- Fiction; Virginia -- Fiction; Wives -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
In Virginia's eyes, as she turned back in the doorway to watch her,
there was a radiant self-forgetfulness which illumined her features. For
a moment she lived so completely in her daughter's youth that her body
seemed to take warmth and colour from the emotion which transfigured
her.
"I am so glad, darling," she said. "It gives me more pleasure to see you
in them than it does to wear them myself." And though she did not know
it, she embodied her gentle philosophy of life in that single sentence.
CHAPTER III
MIDDLE-AGE
Jenny had promised to come home a week before Lucy's wedding, but at the
last moment, while they waited supper for her, a telegram announced with
serious brevity that she was "detained." Twenty-four hours later a
second telegram informed them that she would not arrive until the
evening before the marriage, and at six o'clock on that day, Virginia,
who had been packing Lucy's trunks ever since breakfast, looked out of
the window at the sound of the door-bell, and saw the cab which had
contained her second daughter standing beside the curbstone.
"Mother, have you the change to pay the driver?" asked a vision of stern
loveliness floating into the room. With the winter's glow in her cheeks
and eyes and the bronze sheen on her splendid hair, which was brushed in
rippling waves from her forehead and coiled in a severely simple knot on
her neck, she might have been a wandering goddess, who had descended,
with immortal calm, to direct the affairs of the household. Her white
shirtwaist, with its starched severity, suited her austere beauty and
her look of almost superhuman composure.
"Take off your hat, darling, and lie down on the couch while I finish
Lucy's packing," said Virginia, when she had sent the servant downstairs
to pay the cabman. Her soul was in her eyes while she watched Jenny
remove her plain felt hat, with its bit of blue scarf around the
crown--a piece of millinery which presented a deceptive appearance of
inexpensiveness--and pass the comb through the shining arch of her hair.
"I am so sorry, mother dear, I couldn't come before, but there were some
important lectures I really couldn't afford to miss. I am specializing
in biology, you know."
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