She had a curious
enjoyment in it, simple like that of a child, and a wish to talk to some
one out of the fullness of her heart. She overtook, her step being far
lighter than his, one of the men going home from his work, and spoke to
him, telling him with a smile not to be afraid; but he never so much as
raised his head, and went plodding on with his heavy step, not knowing
that she had spoken to him. She was startled by this; but said to
herself, that the men were dull, that their perceptions were confused,
and that it was getting dark; and went on, passing him quickly. His
breath made a cloud in the air as he walked, and his heavy plodding steps
sounded into the frosty night. She perceived that her own were invisible
and inaudible, with a curious momentary sensation, half of pleasure, half
of pain. She felt no cold, and she saw through the twilight as clearly as
if it had been day. There was no fatigue or sense of weakness in her; but
she had the strange, wistful feeling of an exile returning after long
years, not knowing how he may find those he had left. At one of the first
houses in the village there was a woman standing at her door, looking out
for her children; one who knew Lady Mary well. She stopped quite
cheerfully to bid her good evening, as she had done in her vigorous days,
before she grew old.
Pages:
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60