The Miller Of Old Church — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The Miller Of Old Church
John Stuart Mill · en
He rode on, and Abel forgot the meeting until, on his way back from the
meadow, he ran against Blossom, who was coming rather wildly from the
direction in which Jonathan had vanished.
"What has upset you so, Blossom? You are like a ghost. Did you meet Mr.
Jonathan?"
"No, why should I meet Mr. Jonathan? What do you mean?"
Without replying she turned from him and ran into the house, while
following her more soberly, he asked himself carelessly what could have
happened to disturb her. "I wonder if she is frettin' about the rector?"
he thought, and his utter inability to understand, or even to recognize
the contradictions in the nature of women oppressed his mind. "First,
she wanted Mr. Mullen and he didn't want her, then he wanted her and she
didn't want him, and now when he's evidently left off caring again, she
appears to be grievin' herself sick about him. I wonder if it's always
like that--everybody wanting the person that wants somebody else? And
yet I know I loved Molly a hundred times more, if that were possible,
when I believed she cared for me." He remembered the December afternoon
so many years ago, when she had run away from the school in Applegate,
and he had found her breasting a heavy snow storm on the road to
Jordan's Journey. Against the darkness he saw her so vividly, as she
looked with the snow powdering her hair and her eyes shining happily up
at him when she nestled for warmth against his arm, that for a minute he
could hardly believe that it was eight years ago and not yesterday.
Several weeks later, on a hazy October morning, when the air was sharp
with the scent of cider presses and burning brushwood, he met Molly
returning from the cross-roads, in the short path over the pasture.
"I thought you had gone," he said, and held out his hand.
"Not yet. Mrs. Gay wants to stay through October."
In her hand she held a bunch of golden-rod, and behind her the field in
which she had gathered it, flamed royally in the sunlight.
"Did you know that I rode to Piping Tree to hear you speak one day in
June?" she asked suddenly.
"I didn't know it, but it was nice of you."