2. JULY THE ELEVENTH
955 Words
2. JULY THE ELEVENTHOn the Monday subsequent to their arrival in Budmouth, Owen
Graye attended at Mr. Gradfield's office to enter upon his duties,
and his sister was left in their lodgings alone for the first
time.
Despite the sad occurrences of the preceding autumn, an unwonted
cheerfulness pervaded her spirit throughout the day. Change of
scene—and that to untravelled eyes—conjoined with the sensation of
freedom from supervision, revived the sparkle of a warm young
nature ready enough to take advantage of any adventitious
restoratives. Point-blank grief tends rather to seal up happiness
for a time than to produce that attrition which results from griefs
of anticipation that move onward with the days: these may be said
to furrow away the capacity for pleasure.
Her expectations from the advertisement began to be extravagant.
A thriving family, who had always sadly needed her, was already
definitely pictured in her fancy, which, in its exuberance, led her
on to picturing its individual members, their possible
peculiarities, virtues, and vices, and obliterated for a time the
recollection that she would be separated from her brother.
Thus musing, as she waited for his return in the evening, her
eyes fell on her left hand. The contemplation of her own left
fourth finger by symbol-loving girlhood of this age is, it seems,
very frequently, if not always, followed by a peculiar train of
romantic ideas. Cytherea's thoughts, still playing about her
future, became directed into this romantic groove. She leant back
in her chair, and taking hold of the fourth finger, which had
attracted her attention, she lifted it with the tips of the others,
and looked at the smooth and tapering member for a long time.
She whispered idly, 'I wonder who and what he will be?
'If he's a gentleman of fashion, he will take my finger so, just
with the tips of his own, and with some fluttering of the heart,
and the least trembling of his lip, slip the ring so lightly on
that I shall hardly know it is there—looking delightfully into my
eyes all the time.
'If he's a bold, dashing soldier, I expect he will proudly turn
round, take the ring as if it equalled her Majesty's crown in
value, and desperately set it on my finger thus. He will fix his
eyes unflinchingly upon what he is doing—just as if he stood in
battle before the enemy (though, in reality, very fond of me, of
course), and blush as much as I shall.
'If he's a sailor, he will take my finger and the ring in this
way, and deck it out with a housewifely touch and a tenderness of
expression about his mouth, as sailors do: kiss it, perhaps, with a
simple air, as if we were children playing an idle game, and not at
the very height of observation and envy by a great crowd saying,
"Ah! they are happy now!"
'If he should be rather a poor man—noble-minded and
affectionate, but still poor—'
Owen's footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs, interrupted this
fancy-free meditation. Reproaching herself, even angry with herself
for allowing her mind to stray upon such subjects in the face of
their present desperate condition, she rose to meet him, and make
tea.
Cytherea's interest to know how her brother had been received at
Mr. Gradfield's broke forth into words at once. Almost before they
had sat down to table, she began cross-examining him in the regular
sisterly way.
'Well, Owen, how has it been with you to-day? What is the place
like—do you think you will like Mr. Gradfield?'
'O yes. But he has not been there to-day; I have only had the
head draughtsman with me.'
Young women have a habit, not noticeable in men, of putting on
at a moment's notice the drama of whosoever's life they choose.
Cytherea's interest was transferred from Mr. Gradfield to his
representative.
'What sort of a man is he?'
'He seems a very nice fellow indeed; though of course I can
hardly tell to a certainty as yet. But I think he's a very worthy
fellow; there's no nonsense in him, and though he is not a public
school man he has read widely, and has a sharp appreciation of
what's good in books and art. In fact, his knowledge isn't nearly
so exclusive as most professional men's.'
'That's a great deal to say of an architect, for of all
professional men they are, as a rule, the most professional.'
'Yes; perhaps they are. This man is rather of a melancholy turn
of mind, I think.'
'Has the managing clerk any family?' she mildly asked, after a
while, pouring out some more tea.
'Family; no!'
'Well, dear Owen, how should I know?'
'Why, of course he isn't married. But there happened to be a
conversation about women going on in the office, and I heard him
say what he should wish his wife to be like.'
'What would he wish his wife to be like?' she said, with great
apparent lack of interest.
'O, he says she must be girlish and artless: yet he would be
loth to do without a dash of womanly subtlety, 'tis so piquant.
Yes, he said, that must be in her; she must have womanly
cleverness. "And yet I should like her to blush if only a
cock-sparrow were to look at her hard," he said, "which brings me
back to the girl again: and so I flit backwards and forwards. I
must have what comes, I suppose," he said, "and whatever she may
be, thank God she's no worse. However, if he might give a final
hint to Providence," he said, "a child among pleasures, and a woman
among pains was the rough outline of his requirement."'
'Did he say that? What a musing creature he must be.'
'He did, indeed.'
- Writer
