DOI Artikel:
D'Arcy, Ella: Irremediable
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.20196#0097
By Ella D'Arcy
91
think ? Suppose, now, like a kind little girl, you were to
show me the way to Beacon Poinr, which you say is so
pretty i"
She required no further persuasion. As he walked beside her
through the upland fields where the dusk was beginning to fall,
and the white evening moths to emerge from their daytime
hiding-places, she asked him many personal questions, most of
which he thought fit to parry. Taking no offence thereat, she
told him, instead, much concerning herseif and her family. Thus
he learned her name was Esther Stahles, that she and her people
lived Whitechapel way ; that her father was seldom sober, and
her mother always ill ; and that the aunt with whom she was
staying kept the post-office and general shop in Orton village.
He learned, too, that Esther was discontented with life in general ;
that, though she hated being at home, she found the country
dreadfully dull ; and that, consequently, she was extremely glad to
have made his acquaintance. But what he chiefly realised when
they parted was that he had spent a couple of pleasant hours
talking nonsense with a girl who was natural, simple-minded, and
entirely free from that repellently protective atmosphere with
which a woman of the "classes"so carefully surrounds herseif.
He and Esther had " made friends " with the ease and rapidity
of children before they have learned the dread meaning of
"etiquette," and they said good-night, not without some talk
of meeting each other again.
Obliged to breakfast at a quarter to eight in town, Willoughby
was always luxuriously late when in the country, where he took
his meals also in leisurely fashion, often reading from a book
propped up on the table before him. But the morning after his
meeting with Esther Stahles found him less disposed to read than
usual. Her image obtruded itself upon the printed page, and at
length
91
think ? Suppose, now, like a kind little girl, you were to
show me the way to Beacon Poinr, which you say is so
pretty i"
She required no further persuasion. As he walked beside her
through the upland fields where the dusk was beginning to fall,
and the white evening moths to emerge from their daytime
hiding-places, she asked him many personal questions, most of
which he thought fit to parry. Taking no offence thereat, she
told him, instead, much concerning herseif and her family. Thus
he learned her name was Esther Stahles, that she and her people
lived Whitechapel way ; that her father was seldom sober, and
her mother always ill ; and that the aunt with whom she was
staying kept the post-office and general shop in Orton village.
He learned, too, that Esther was discontented with life in general ;
that, though she hated being at home, she found the country
dreadfully dull ; and that, consequently, she was extremely glad to
have made his acquaintance. But what he chiefly realised when
they parted was that he had spent a couple of pleasant hours
talking nonsense with a girl who was natural, simple-minded, and
entirely free from that repellently protective atmosphere with
which a woman of the "classes"so carefully surrounds herseif.
He and Esther had " made friends " with the ease and rapidity
of children before they have learned the dread meaning of
"etiquette," and they said good-night, not without some talk
of meeting each other again.
Obliged to breakfast at a quarter to eight in town, Willoughby
was always luxuriously late when in the country, where he took
his meals also in leisurely fashion, often reading from a book
propped up on the table before him. But the morning after his
meeting with Esther Stahles found him less disposed to read than
usual. Her image obtruded itself upon the printed page, and at
length