God's Good Man by Marie Corelli (best young adult book series .txt) đ
- Author: Marie Corelli
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Walden made no remark. It never even occurred to him just then that Mrs. Spruce was unconsciously rendering in her own particular fashion the text he had chosen for the next dayâs sermon. Never in all his life before had he experienced such strongly mingled sensations of repulsion and interest as at that moment. With a kind of inward indignation, he asked himself what business he had to be there looking curiously into a womanâs room, littered with all the fripperies and expensive absurdities of a womanâs apparel? Above all, why should he be so utterly ridiculous and inconsequential in his own mind as to find himself deeply fascinated by such a spectacle? In all the years he had passed with his sister, so long as she had lived, he had never seen such a bewildering disorder of feminine clothes. He had never had the opportunity of noting the pathetic difference existing between the toilette surroundings of a woman who is strong and well, and of one who is deprived of all natural coquetry by the cruel ravages of long sickness and disease. His sister, beautiful even in her incurable physical affliction, had always borne that affliction more or less in mind, and had attired herself with a severely simple taste,âher bedroom, where she had had to pass so many weary hours of suffering, had been a model of almost Spartan-like simplicity, and her dressing-table was wont to be far more conspicuous for melancholy little medicine-phials than for flashing, silver-stoppered cut-glass bottles, exhaling the rarest perfumes. Then, since her death, Walden had lived so entirely alone, that the pretty vanities of bright and healthy women were quite unfamiliar to him.
The present glittering display of openly expressed frivolity seemed curiously new, and vaguely alarming. He was angry with it, yet in a manner attracted. He found himself considering, with a curious uneasiness, two small nondescript pink objects that were lying on the floor at some distance from each other. At a first glance they appeared to be very choice examples of that charming orchid known as the âCypripedium,ââbut on closer examination it was evident they were merely fashionable evening shoes. Again and again he turned his eyes away from them,âand again and again his glance involuntarily wandered back and rested on their helpless-looking little pointed toes and ridiculously high heels. Considered from a purely âsanitaryâ point of view, they were the most wicked, the most criminal, the most absolutely unheard-of shoes ever seen. Why, no human feet of the proper size could possibly get into them, unless they were squeezed---
âYes, squeezed!âârepeated Walden inwardly, with a sense of unreasonable irritation; âAll the toes cramped and the heels pinchedâeverything out of joint and distortedâfalse feet, in fact, like everything else false that has to do with the modern fashionable woman!â
There they lay,apparently innocent;-but surely detestable, nay even Satanic objects. He determined he would have them removedâ picked upâcast outâthrust into the nearest drawer, anywhere, in fact, provided they were out of his stern, clerical sight. Mrs. Spruce was continuing conversation in brisk tones, but whether she was addressing him, or the buxom young woman, who, under her directions was shaking out or folding up the various garments taken out of the various boxes, he did not know, and, as a matter of fact, he did not care. She sounded like Tennysonâs âBrook,â with a âMen may come and men may go, but I go on for everâ monotonousness that was as depressing as it was incessant.
He determined to interrupt the purling stream.
âMrs. Spruce,â he began,âthen hesitated, as she turned briskly towards him, looking like a human clothes-prop, with both fat arms extended in order to keep well away from contact with the floor a gauzy robe sparkling all over with tiny crystalline drops, which, catching the sunbeams, flashed like little points of flame.
âBegginâ your pardon, Passon, did you speak?â
âYes. I think you should not let anything lie about, as, for example,âthoseââ and he pointed to the objectionable shoes with an odd sense of discomfiture; âThey appear to be of a delicate colour and might easily get soiled.â
Mrs. Spruce peered round over the sparkling substance she held, looking like a very ancient and red-faced cherub peeping over the rim of a moonlit cloud.
âWell, I never!â she exclaimed; âWhat a hi you have, Passon! What a hi! Now them shoes missed me altogether! They must have dropped out of some of the dresses weâve been unfoldinâ, for the packinâs quite reckless-like, and ainât never been done by no trained maid. All hustled-bustled like into the boxes anyhow, as if the person what had done it was in a mortal temper or hurry. Lord! Donât I know how people crams things in when theyâs in a rage! Ah! Wait till I get rid of all these diamants,â and she waddled to the deep oak wardrobe, which stood open, and carefully hung the glittering garment up by its two sleeveholes on two pegs,âthen turned round with a sigh. âItâs orful what the worldâs coming to, Passon Walden,- -orful! Fancy diamants all sewed on to a gown! I wouldnât let my Kitty in âere for any amount of money! Sheâd be that restless and worritinâ and wantinâ the like things for âerself, and the mortal mischief it would be, thereâs no knowinâ! Why, the first âcommercialâ as come round âere with âis pack and âis lies, would get her runninâ off with âim! Ah! Thatâs jesâ where leddies makes such work for Satanâs hands to do; they never thinks of the envy and jealousy and spite as eats away the âarts of poor gels what sees all these fine things, and ainât got no chance for to have them for theirselves!â Here, sidling along the floor, she picked up the pink shoes to which Walden had called her attention, first one and then the other. âWell! Call them shoes! My Kitty couldnât get her âand into âem! And as for a foot fittinâ in! What a foot! It canât be much biggerân a babyâs. Well, well, what a pair oâ shoes!â
She stood looking at them, a fat smile on her face, and Walden moved uneasily from the threshold.
âIâll leave you now, Mrs. Spruce,â he said; âYou have plenty to do, and Iâm in the way here.â
âWell, now, Passon, that do beat me!â said Mrs. Spruce plaintively; âI thought you was a-goinâ to help us!â
âHelp you? I?â and Walden laughed aloud; âMy dear woman, do you think I can unpack and unfold ladiesâ dresses? Of all the many incongruous uses a clergyman was ever put to, wouldnât that be the most impossible?â
âLord love ye, Passon Walden, I ainât askinâ ye no such thing;â retorted Mrs. Spruce; âDonât ye think it! For thereâs nothinâ like a man, passon or no passon, for makinâ rumples of every bit of clothes he touches, even his own coats and weskits, and I wouldnât let ye lay hands on any oâ these things to save my life. Why, theyâd go to pieces at the mere sight of yer fingers, theyâre so flimsy! What I thought ye might do, was to be a witness to us while we sorted them all. Itâs a great thing to have a man oâ God as a witness to the likes oâ this work!â
Again Walden laughed, this time with very genuine heartiness, though he did wish Mrs. Spruce would put away the troublesome pink shoes which she still held, and to which he found his eyes still wandering.
âNonsense! You donât want any witness!â he said gaily; âWhat are you thinking about, Mrs. Spruce? When Miss Vancourt is here, all you have to do is to go over every item of her property with her, and see that she finds it all right. If anything is missing, itâs not your fault.â
âIf anythinkâs missing,â echoed Mrs. Spruce in sepulchral tones, âthen the Lord knows what weâll do, for itâll be all over, so far as weâre consarned! Beggars in the streetâll be kings to us. Passon, I reckon ye doesnât read the newspapers much, does ye?â
âPretty fairly,â responded Walden still smiling; âI keep myself as well acquainted as I can with what is going on in the world.â
âDoes ye now?â And Mrs. Spruce surveyed him admiringly. âWell, now, I shouldnât have thought it, for ye seems as innâcent as a babby I do assure ye; ye seems jesâ that. But mebbe ye doesnât get the same kind oâ newspapers which we poor folks getsâregâler weekly penny lists oâ murders, soocides, railway haccidents, burgulâries, fires, droppinâs down dead suddint, struck by lightninâ and collapsis, with remedies pervided for all in the advertisements invigoratinâ to both old and young, bone and sinew, brain and body, whether it be pills, potions, tonics, lotions, ointment or minâral waters. Themâs the sort oâ papers we gets, or rather the âMother Huffâ takes âem all in for us, anâ the âole village drinks the âorrors anâ the medicines in with the ale. Ah! Itâs mighty edifyinâ, Passon, I do assure yeâand many of us goes to church on Sundays and reads the âorrors anâ medicines in the arternoon, and whether we remembers your sermon or the âorrors anâ medicines most, the Lord only knows! But itâs in them papers I sees how fine leddies goes on nowadays, and if they misses so much as a two-and-sixpenny âairpin, some of âem out of sheer spite, will âaul a gel up âfore the pâlice and âave âer in condemned cells in no time, so that ye see, Passon, if so be Miss Maryllia counts over the sparkling diamants and oneâs lost, weâll all be brought âfore Sir Morton Pippitt as county magâstrate afore weâve âad time to look at our breakfasts. Wherefore, I sez, why not âave a man oâ God as witness?â
âWhy not, indeed!â returned Walden, playfully; âbut your âman of Godâ wonât be me, Mrs. Spruce! Iâm off! I congratulate you on your preparations, and I think you are doing everything splendidly! If Miss Vancourt does not look upon you as a positive treasure, I shall be very much mistaken! Good afternoon!â
âPasson, Passon!â urged Mrs. Spruce; âYe baint goinâ already?â
âI must! To-morrowâs Sunday, remember!â
âAh!âthat it is!â she sighed, âAnd my mind sorely misgives me that I never asked the new servants whether they was âIgh, Low or Roman. It fairly slipped my memory, and they seemed never to think of it themselves. Why didnât they remind me, Passon?âcan you answer me that? Which it proves the despisableness of our naturs that we never thinks of the religious sides of
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