DOI article:
Syrett, Netta: A correspondence
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27806#0161
By Netta Syrett 157
This absence of impatience or reproach paralysed her. Once
when Gretchen had been called away in the middle of the duet,
she sat vacantly staring at the keys for a moment.
All at once, with a sudden frantic movement, she half rose from
her seat at the piano, a look of positive terror in her eyes.
“If only she would say something—anything! I can’t breathe
when she looks at me,” she panted breathlessly.
When Gretchen came back she was patiently practising a bar
over and over again.
“Try it once more, Cecily,” Gretchen said, gazing straight
before her out of the window. “ It isn’t right.”
Mrs. Armstrong found her cousin really invaluable. She was
as clever with her fingers as with her brains, and when Cecily
began to go out, she not only designed, but also made most of her
charming gowns for evening wear.
She always helped her to dress for dances—dressed her, in fact—
for Cecily generally stood quite passive to have her hair arranged,
her flowers fastened in, or the folds of her gown artistically draped.
On these occasions Gretchen never failed to praise her beauty
openly and with an air of impartial criticism, and then Cecily
winced and trembled a little, but said nothing.
“ I have a comfortable home, but I earn my living,” wrote
Gretchen to a friend, when she had been with the Armstrongs
about three months.
It was with real concern that a day or two after her daughter’s
engagement had been finally arranged Mrs. Armstrong learnt that
Gretchen was thinking of leaving her.
“ Cecily will be broken-hearted,” she exclaimed plaintively ;
“and she won’t be married just yet, you know. Besides, why
should you go at all ? I shall want you more than ever then.”
But Gretchen was firm.
“As
This absence of impatience or reproach paralysed her. Once
when Gretchen had been called away in the middle of the duet,
she sat vacantly staring at the keys for a moment.
All at once, with a sudden frantic movement, she half rose from
her seat at the piano, a look of positive terror in her eyes.
“If only she would say something—anything! I can’t breathe
when she looks at me,” she panted breathlessly.
When Gretchen came back she was patiently practising a bar
over and over again.
“Try it once more, Cecily,” Gretchen said, gazing straight
before her out of the window. “ It isn’t right.”
Mrs. Armstrong found her cousin really invaluable. She was
as clever with her fingers as with her brains, and when Cecily
began to go out, she not only designed, but also made most of her
charming gowns for evening wear.
She always helped her to dress for dances—dressed her, in fact—
for Cecily generally stood quite passive to have her hair arranged,
her flowers fastened in, or the folds of her gown artistically draped.
On these occasions Gretchen never failed to praise her beauty
openly and with an air of impartial criticism, and then Cecily
winced and trembled a little, but said nothing.
“ I have a comfortable home, but I earn my living,” wrote
Gretchen to a friend, when she had been with the Armstrongs
about three months.
It was with real concern that a day or two after her daughter’s
engagement had been finally arranged Mrs. Armstrong learnt that
Gretchen was thinking of leaving her.
“ Cecily will be broken-hearted,” she exclaimed plaintively ;
“and she won’t be married just yet, you know. Besides, why
should you go at all ? I shall want you more than ever then.”
But Gretchen was firm.
“As