In her parlour was a long-case clock, and inserted into its dial was a
ruddy, round, slant-eyed, joyous-painted face, that wagged over with
the most ridiculous ogle when the clock ticked, and back again with the
same absurd glad-eye at the next tick. All the time the absurd smooth,
brown-ruddy face gave her an obtrusive 'glad-eye.' She stood for
minutes, watching it, till a sort of maddened disgust overcame her, and
she laughed at herself hollowly. And still it rocked, and gave her the
glad-eye from one side, then from the other, from one side, then from
the other. Ah, how unhappy she was! In the midst of her most active
happiness, ah, how unhappy she was! She glanced at the table.
Gooseberry jam, and the same home-made cake with too much soda in it!
Still, gooseberry jam was good, and one so rarely got it.
All the evening she wanted to go to the Mill. But she coldly refused to
allow herself. She went the next afternoon instead. She was happy to
find Ursula alone. It was a lovely, intimate secluded atmosphere.
Pages:
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782