Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Honorable Miss: A Story of an Old-Fashioned Town by L. T. Meade (best smutty novels .txt) 📖
- Author: L. T. Meade
Book online «The Honorable Miss: A Story of an Old-Fashioned Town by L. T. Meade (best smutty novels .txt) 📖». Author L. T. Meade
"Listen," said Catherine, suddenly, "you want to see my mother?"
"Yes, I certainly want to see her."
"Listen again. I am absolutely determined that you shall not see her."
"But I have a message for her."
"You shall not see her. My mother is not well. I stand between my mother and trouble. I know you are going to bring her trouble; and you shall not see her."
"How can you prevent me?"
"In this way. My mother is away from home. I will take care that she does not return until you have left this place. I am determined."
"Is that true?" asked the girl. "Is she really away from home?"
"Am I likely to tell you a lie? My mother is from home."
The strange girl had been sitting on the grass. Now she rose, pushed back her thick hair, and fixed her eyes on Catherine. Catherine again noticed the singular brightness, the half-wild light in her eyes. Suddenly it was quenched by great tears. They splashed down on her cheeks, and made clean channels where the dust had lain.
"I am deadly tired," she said, with a half moan.
"Listen, Josephine," said Catherine. "You shall not spend your night here. You shall not stay to see my mother. I will take you down to the lodge and wake up Tester, and his wife shall get a bed ready for you, and you shall sleep there, and in the morning you are to go away. You can have breakfast before you start, but afterwards you are to go away. Do you promise me? Do you agree to this?"
The girl muttered something, and Catherine took her hand and led her down to the lodge.
CHAPTER X. THE REASON OF THE VISIT.
On the evening of the next day Mrs. Bertram came home. She looked very tired and worn, but her manner to her children was less stern, and more loving than usual. Loftus, in especial, she kissed with rare tenderness; and even for one brief moment laid her head on her tall son's broad shoulder, as if she wanted to rest herself there.
On the evening of her mother's return Catherine was particularly bright and cheerful. As a rule, Catherine's will and her mother's were two opposing elements. Now they were one. This conjunction of two strong wills gave an immense sense of rest and harmony to the whole establishment. No one knew particularly why they felt peaceful and satisfied, but this was the true cause.
After dinner, Mrs. Bertram saw Catherine by herself. She called her into the big drawing-room; and while Loftus and Mabel accurately measured out a new tennis-court, asked her daughter many and various questions.
"She has really gone away, mother," said Catherine in conclusion. "I went to the lodge early this morning, and Tester told me that she got up early, and took a bit of bread in her pocket; but she would not even wait for a cup of tea. Tester said she was out of the house by six o'clock. She washed herself well first, though, and Mrs. Tester said that she came out of her bath as fair as a lily, and her hair shining like red gold. I thought last night, mother," concluded Catherine, "that Josephine must be a pretty girl. I should like to have seen her this morning when her hair shone and her face was like a lily."
"You are full of curiosity about this girl, are you not, Catherine?" asked her mother.
"It is true, mother. I conjecture much about her."
"I can never gratify your curiosity, nor set your conjectures right."
"You know about her then, mother?"
"Yes, I know about her."
"Is Josephine an impostor?"
Mrs. Bertram paused.
"She is an impostor," she said then, in a slow, emphatic voice.
"Mother," said her daughter, suddenly. "You look very ill."
"I have gone through a bad time, Kate. I have been worried. My dear child, be thankful you are not a middle-aged woman with many cares."
"The thing I should be most thankful for at this moment, mother, would be to share in all your worries."
"God forbid, child. Heaven forbid that such a lot should be yours. Now, my dear, we will keep our secret. It is only yours and mine. And—come here—kiss me—you have acted well, my darling."
The rare caress, the unwonted word of love, went straight to Catherine Bertram's deep heart. She put her firm young arm round her mother's neck, and something like a vow and a prayer went up to God from her fervent soul.
"Come out," said Mrs. Bertram. "The others will wonder what we are doing. Look as usual, Kitty, and fear nothing. I have been in peril, but for the present it is over."
When Mrs. Bertram appeared Loftus went up to her at once. She took his arm, and they paced slowly under the trees. If Mrs. Bertram loved her daughters, and there is no doubt she had a very real regard for them, Loftus Bertram was as the apple of her eye. She adored this young man, she was blind to his faults, and she saw his virtues through magnifying glasses.
Loftus could always talk his mother into the best of humors. He was not devoid of tact, and he knew exactly how to manage her, so as to bring her round to his wishes. Having two ends in view to-night he was more than usually fascinating. He wanted money to relieve a pressing embarrassment, and he also wished to cultivate his acquaintance with Beatrice Meadowsweet. He was not absolutely in love with Beatrice, but her cool indifference to all his fascinations piqued him. He thought it would be pleasant to see more of her, delightful to make a conquest of her. He was not the sort of man to thwart his own inclinations. Beatrice had contrived to make Northbury interesting to him, and he thought he could easily manage to get leave to visit it soon again.
That evening, therefore, Mrs. Bertram not only found herself arranging to put her hand to a bill, payable at the end of six months, for her son's benefit, but further, quite complacently agreeing to call the very next day on Mrs. Meadowsweet, the wife of the ex-shopkeeper.
Hence that visit which had aroused the jealous feelings not only of Mrs. Morris, of Mrs, Butler and Miss Peters, but more or less of the whole society of Northbury.
CHAPTER XI. SOMEBODY ADMIRED SOMEBODY.
"Then, if that's the case," said Mrs. Bell, "if that's really and truly the case, and no mistake about it, Matty must have some new frocks made up for her at once. I have no idea of a child of mine looking shabby or behind any one else, but you must tell me truly, Alice, if he really was attentive. Bless you, child, you know what I mean. Was there any hand-squeezing, and was he always and forever making an excuse to have a look at her. No one could have been more genteel than your father during courtship, but the way his eyes did follow me wherever I turned, over and over put me to the blush."
"Don't say anything to Matty," responded Alice Bell. "She'll be sure to giggle awfully when next they meet, if you do. She can't keep anything in, and she owned to Sophy and me that he had got her heart. Well, yes, I suppose he was particular with her. He danced with her, and he looked at her, only, I do think it was she squeezed his hand."
"Oh, fie, Alice, to say such things of your sister. Well, anyhow the town is full of it. When I went out yesterday Mrs. Morris asked me point-blank if I hadn't news for her, and Miss Peters has taken so frightfully to rolling her eyes whenever Matty and Captain Bertram are seen together, that I'm quite afraid she will contract a regular squint. How long was he with Matty on the green last night, Alice?"
"About half-an-hour, I should say," responded Alice. "They walked round the Green five times, with me and Sophy doing gooseberry behind. I don't think Matty stopped laughing for a single minute, and the captain he did quiz her frightfully."
"Poor man, he was trying to wheedle her heart out of her!" remarked the gratified mother. "And he has all my sympathies, and what's more, we must have him to supper, and lobsters and crabs, and anything else he fancies. It isn't for me to be hard-hearted, and not give the poor fellow his opportunities; and no doubt Matty will relent by-and-bye."
"Oh, dear me, mother, she has relented now. She's only waiting and dying for him to pop the question."
"If I were you, Alice, I wouldn't make so light of your own sister. Of course she is gratified by being spoken to and appreciated, but if you think a girl of mine is going to let herself down cheap—well, she'll be very different metal from her mother before her. Three times Bell had to go on his knees for me, and he thought all the more of me for having to do it. If I'm not mistaken, there are some in this town who are jealous of Matty. Who would have thought that handsome friend of yours, Bee Meadowsweet, would be looked over and made nothing of, and my girl be the favored one? Well, I must own I'm pleased, and so will her father be, too. It's a nice genteel connection, and they say there's lots of money somewhere in the background.—Oh, is that you, Matty?—Goodness, child, don't get your face so burnt,—you shouldn't go out without a veil in the sun. Now come here, pet, sit down and keep cool, and I'll bring in some buttermilk presently to bathe your neck and cheeks. There's nothing like buttermilk for burns. Well, well, what were we talking about, Alice, when Matty came in?"
"About the person we're always talking about," replied Alice, rather crossly. "About Captain Bertram. Good gracious, Matty, it isn't at all becoming to you to flame up in that sudden way. Lor' ma, look at her, she's the color of a peony."
[It may be remarked in passing that the Bells did not echo one another when at home.]
"Never mind, never mind," retorted Mrs. Bell, who, with true delicacy, would not look at her blushing daughter.
"I was thinking Matty, my love, that you wanted a new evening dress. I don't like you to be behind any one else, my dear, and that green skirt with the white jacket, though genteel enough, doesn't seem quite the thing. I can't tell what's the matter with it, for the mohair in the skirts cost nine-pence half-penny a yard, and the first day you wore those dresses, girls, they shone as if they were silk, and your father asked me why I was so extravagant, and said that though he would like it he hadn't money to dress you up in silk attire. Poor Bell has a turn for poetry, and if he had not lost his money through the badness of the coal trade, he'd make you look like three poems, that's what he said to me. Well, well, somehow the dresses are handsome, and yet I don't like them."
"They're hideous," said Matty, kicking out her foot with a petulant movement. "Somehow, those home-made dresses never look right. They don't sit properly. We weren't a bit like the other girls at Mrs. Meadowsweet's a fortnight ago."
"No," said Alice, "we weren't. The Bertrams had nothing but full skirts and baby bodies, and sashes round their waists, just like little girls. Mabel Bertram's dress was only down to her ankles—nothing could have been plainer—no style at all, and yet we didn't look like them."
"Well," said the mother, bristling and bridling, "handsome dresses or not, somebody admired somebody at that party, or I'm greatly mistaken. Well, Matty dear, what would you fancy for evening wear? If my purse will stand it you shall have it. I won't have you behind no one, my love."
It was at this critical moment, when Matty's giggles prevented her speaking, and Alice was casting some truly sarcastic and sisterly shafts at her, that Sophy burst open the door, and announced, in an excited voice, that Mrs. Middlemass, the pedler, had just stepped into the hall.
"She has got some lovely things to-day," exclaimed Sophy. "Shall we have her up, mamma? Have we anything to exchange?"
"It's only a week since she was here," replied Mrs. Bell. "And she pretty nearly cleared us out then. Still it would be a comfort if we could squeeze a frock for Matty out of her. I could buy the trimmings easy enough for you, Matty,
Comments (0)