DOI article:
Neuman, B. Paul: A ballad and a tale
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.38746#0220
A Ballad and a Tale
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so vehement, that though no word was uttered, it seemed to
choke her. She ended with “ Our Father,” which she repeated
from old habit. The forgiveness clause presented no more
difficulty to her than does the Sermon on the Mount to an army
chaplain.
“ If he had merely injured me, I daresay I could have forgiven
easily enough,” was the only explanation she vouchsafed her
conscience, but it was quite sufficient.
A fortnight later Nora returned home one dull, foggy night,
between nine and ten. It was her late evening, and she was
fairly tired out. Her feet were damp, for the soles of her boots
were in holes, and the long walk home—her pupil lived in Camden
Town—had left her limp and cross. However, Jane had some
hot tea ready, and though she felt too tired to eat the bread and
butter which was ready cut for her, the mild stimulant refreshed
her. She sent the child off to bed, and sat down to her nightly
task of mending clothes. Ted was doing some extra work with
a view to some new prize he was trying for. About eleven his
yawns became so frequent that in spite of his protests she insisted
on his going to bed. Then for some time she was left alone to
her mending and her thoughts. These were as usual of a sombre
description. The gleam of brightness which had come with the
last accession of wealth had vanished. Indeed the mysterious air
assumed by Crofts when she pressed him as to his source, had
occasioned her fresh uneasiness. Her faith in her father was so
grievously shaken that his honesty did not seem to her quite above
suspicion. But she never forgot where to lay the ultimate burden
of blame. “ It is all his doing,” she murmured. “ How long, oh
Lord, how long ? ”
She was surprised to hear the hall door open. It must be her
father she knew, every one else was in, but for the last week he
had
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so vehement, that though no word was uttered, it seemed to
choke her. She ended with “ Our Father,” which she repeated
from old habit. The forgiveness clause presented no more
difficulty to her than does the Sermon on the Mount to an army
chaplain.
“ If he had merely injured me, I daresay I could have forgiven
easily enough,” was the only explanation she vouchsafed her
conscience, but it was quite sufficient.
A fortnight later Nora returned home one dull, foggy night,
between nine and ten. It was her late evening, and she was
fairly tired out. Her feet were damp, for the soles of her boots
were in holes, and the long walk home—her pupil lived in Camden
Town—had left her limp and cross. However, Jane had some
hot tea ready, and though she felt too tired to eat the bread and
butter which was ready cut for her, the mild stimulant refreshed
her. She sent the child off to bed, and sat down to her nightly
task of mending clothes. Ted was doing some extra work with
a view to some new prize he was trying for. About eleven his
yawns became so frequent that in spite of his protests she insisted
on his going to bed. Then for some time she was left alone to
her mending and her thoughts. These were as usual of a sombre
description. The gleam of brightness which had come with the
last accession of wealth had vanished. Indeed the mysterious air
assumed by Crofts when she pressed him as to his source, had
occasioned her fresh uneasiness. Her faith in her father was so
grievously shaken that his honesty did not seem to her quite above
suspicion. But she never forgot where to lay the ultimate burden
of blame. “ It is all his doing,” she murmured. “ How long, oh
Lord, how long ? ”
She was surprised to hear the hall door open. It must be her
father she knew, every one else was in, but for the last week he
had