voice:
“He was ... afraid to ... argue with you, as ... I was.”
There was silence and then Lord Rothwyn said:
“Are you not being rather brave in telling me this?”
“I am . . . sorry for him,” Lalitha explained, “because when people are strong and self-confident they do not understand how ... weak and ... stupid others like ... myself can be.”
“Do you really think that is an excuse for bad workmanship?” “I thought in this case it was an error of judgment,” Lalitha said. “Everyone ... whoever they may be ... can make a mistake!”
A faint smile twisted Lord Rothwyn’s lips.
“As I made one,” he said. “All right, Lalitha, I am saying it for you. That is what you are thinking, is it not?”
She looked down. Her eye-lashes which had grown thick and long since her illness were dark against her cheeks.
“I told you that... you might ... deem it an ... impertinence!” she said hardly above a whisper.
“I think perhaps you are not as fearful as you think you are,” he said, “but as I have no wish to upset you, Lalitha, I will speak to Jameson. Where is he?”
Lalitha’s eyes were raised to his and he saw a sudden light in them.
“In the room opposite.”
“Stay here!”
He went out, closing the door behind him, and Lalitha found herself praying in her heart that he would be kind to the young man.
No-one understood, she thought, the horrible, insidious, snake-like fear which could run through one’s body, sapping one’s will to the point when one behaved foolishly simply because one could not think clearly.
Even now, she thought, she could hardly believe that she would wake in the morning without having to anticipate receiving blows and abuse all through the day.
She remembered how she was always alert, listening for the sound of her Step-mother’s voice, feeling a sudden sickness inside her at the thought that she might have done something wrong and would be punished for it.
She had never been free of the terror which was with her waking or sleeping. She could never escape from the physical shrinking from the pain that might be afflicted upon her.
Lord Rothwyn came into the room and she looked at him apprehensively.
He did not speak until he had sat down again at his desk, and then he said:
“I have re-instated him. Does that please you?”
Lalitha’s eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together.
“Have you really done that? Oh, I am glad!”
“I told you that I expect perfection,” Lord Rothwyn said.
“Yes, I know,” Lalitha answered, “but I think you also expect beauty, and beauty, like Cleopatra’s nose, is not always architecturally symmetrical.”
“That is true!” Lord Rothwyn agreed.
“And . . . happiness,” Lalitha said hesitatingly, “is . . . something of which one cannot make an . . . exact plan.”
Lord Rothwyn lay back in his chair and laughed.
“I can see you are going to upset all the schemes on which I have expended so much time and trouble,” he said, “and yet I cannot refute your arguments. Who taught you such things?” “Perhaps suffering as I have these past years,” Lalitha answered. “I have learnt that what everyone really wants in life is happiness. People think it comes from success, money, or Social position!”
She paused to go on:
“That may be true for a few, but I believe they are exceptional. Ordinary people are really seeking love and they can find it only when they are safe and secure, not harassed and hunted or terror-stricken, for there can be no happiness in... fear.”
There was a note of passionate intensity in Lalitha’s voice and Lord Rothwyn said:
“Let me ask you a question, Lalitha. Have you been happier, if not happy, these past weeks?”
“They have been more wonderful than I could ever explain to you,” Lalitha answered. “It is as if you brought me out of a deep, dark dungeon where there was no light, no hope, into the sun-shine.”
“Thank you,” Lord Rothwyn said softly.
As if
“He was ... afraid to ... argue with you, as ... I was.”
There was silence and then Lord Rothwyn said:
“Are you not being rather brave in telling me this?”
“I am . . . sorry for him,” Lalitha explained, “because when people are strong and self-confident they do not understand how ... weak and ... stupid others like ... myself can be.”
“Do you really think that is an excuse for bad workmanship?” “I thought in this case it was an error of judgment,” Lalitha said. “Everyone ... whoever they may be ... can make a mistake!”
A faint smile twisted Lord Rothwyn’s lips.
“As I made one,” he said. “All right, Lalitha, I am saying it for you. That is what you are thinking, is it not?”
She looked down. Her eye-lashes which had grown thick and long since her illness were dark against her cheeks.
“I told you that... you might ... deem it an ... impertinence!” she said hardly above a whisper.
“I think perhaps you are not as fearful as you think you are,” he said, “but as I have no wish to upset you, Lalitha, I will speak to Jameson. Where is he?”
Lalitha’s eyes were raised to his and he saw a sudden light in them.
“In the room opposite.”
“Stay here!”
He went out, closing the door behind him, and Lalitha found herself praying in her heart that he would be kind to the young man.
No-one understood, she thought, the horrible, insidious, snake-like fear which could run through one’s body, sapping one’s will to the point when one behaved foolishly simply because one could not think clearly.
Even now, she thought, she could hardly believe that she would wake in the morning without having to anticipate receiving blows and abuse all through the day.
She remembered how she was always alert, listening for the sound of her Step-mother’s voice, feeling a sudden sickness inside her at the thought that she might have done something wrong and would be punished for it.
She had never been free of the terror which was with her waking or sleeping. She could never escape from the physical shrinking from the pain that might be afflicted upon her.
Lord Rothwyn came into the room and she looked at him apprehensively.
He did not speak until he had sat down again at his desk, and then he said:
“I have re-instated him. Does that please you?”
Lalitha’s eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together.
“Have you really done that? Oh, I am glad!”
“I told you that I expect perfection,” Lord Rothwyn said.
“Yes, I know,” Lalitha answered, “but I think you also expect beauty, and beauty, like Cleopatra’s nose, is not always architecturally symmetrical.”
“That is true!” Lord Rothwyn agreed.
“And . . . happiness,” Lalitha said hesitatingly, “is . . . something of which one cannot make an . . . exact plan.”
Lord Rothwyn lay back in his chair and laughed.
“I can see you are going to upset all the schemes on which I have expended so much time and trouble,” he said, “and yet I cannot refute your arguments. Who taught you such things?” “Perhaps suffering as I have these past years,” Lalitha answered. “I have learnt that what everyone really wants in life is happiness. People think it comes from success, money, or Social position!”
She paused to go on:
“That may be true for a few, but I believe they are exceptional. Ordinary people are really seeking love and they can find it only when they are safe and secure, not harassed and hunted or terror-stricken, for there can be no happiness in... fear.”
There was a note of passionate intensity in Lalitha’s voice and Lord Rothwyn said:
“Let me ask you a question, Lalitha. Have you been happier, if not happy, these past weeks?”
“They have been more wonderful than I could ever explain to you,” Lalitha answered. “It is as if you brought me out of a deep, dark dungeon where there was no light, no hope, into the sun-shine.”
“Thank you,” Lord Rothwyn said softly.
As if
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