many cases with turves for rooves. I expected the big house to be nearby but there was no sign of it.
“The village was moved, see,” Sukey explained. “So now it’s out o’ the paritch as the estate is in.”
And so we had to walk for another ten minutes before Sukey said: “That’s where my aunt lives.” She indicated a small cottage that stood beside a pair of tall stone columns topped with globes. They framed a set of lofty black double gates with elegant filigree iron-work fancifully wrought into flourishes and flowers, which were secured by a large padlock and chain, and whose railings rose to sharp points.
“Now you’ll be all right to wait here for a little and won’t get up to no mischief, will you, Master Johnnie?”
I nodded agreement and she went into the cottage. Overcome by curiosity I approached the gate and peered through the bars, whose black paint was peeling off, revealing the rust underneath. Beyond was a courtyard with a paved surface whose stones were not merely overgrown with moss and grass but had become loosened and dislodged by the passage of long years of neglect.
Some distance away I could see the shape of a house looming up. Although it was sideways on to me, its huge size was apparent, and so, too, was its state of delapidation.
Its windows were either shuttered or the paint was flaking off the bars and frames; no smoke rose from its chimneys, many of which were missing pots; slates had slipped from the part of the roof that was visible to me; and altogether the house appeared to be a deserted and uninhabited ruin.
As I watched, however, a figure, dressed in the clothes of a working man and pushing a hand-barrow, came round the corner of the house. He began A WISE CHILD
45
to gather up the pieces of fallen masonry and shattered slate that lay about on the ground, presumably blown down in the storm the night before.
After a moment two more figures approached from round the corner of the house. I watched them, knowing that I should move away from the gate, but something prevented me. The great empty house of Hougham (or was it Iluffam?) seemed to have touched some chord inside me, and awakened, it seemed to me, an echo in my innermost being whose summons I was powerless to resist.
As the newcomers came close enough for me to be able to make them out, I saw that they were a little girl of about my age and a tall, elderly lady, and that both of them were dressed in black. The lady stopped to talk to the workman, but the little girl must have seen me for she continued to walk slowly up to the gate opposite me. Her face was very pale — so pale that I wondered if she had been ill — so that her dark eyes looked all the darker. She held her hands inside a muff she carried in front of her, and a strange, solemn little figure she made altogether.
“You’re not one of the village boys, are you?” she said.
Under the terms of the promise I had given my mother, I wasn’t allowed to speak to strangers, but, I reasoned to myself, surely this only referred to adults and so a little girl did not count.
“No,” I replied.
“I’m strictly forbidden to have anything to do with the children from the village,” she explained.
“But don’t you live in the village?”
“No. I live here.”
“Do you mean in that big house?” I wondered.
“Yes.”
She spoke as if it were the least interesting fact in the world.
“Is that lady your mother?”
“No,” she replied. “My mother is dead. And so is my father. You see, I’m an orphan.”
An orphan? Here was an interesting word and I felt envious of her right to it. Then I supposed I was at least halfway towards being an orphan too.
“That lady is the housekeeper here,” she explained. “Of course, I should have a governess. I’ve had several, but my guardians said that none of them suited. Mrs Peppercorn is very strict about not allowing me to speak to strangers.”
Behind the little girl I could see the tall figure
“The village was moved, see,” Sukey explained. “So now it’s out o’ the paritch as the estate is in.”
And so we had to walk for another ten minutes before Sukey said: “That’s where my aunt lives.” She indicated a small cottage that stood beside a pair of tall stone columns topped with globes. They framed a set of lofty black double gates with elegant filigree iron-work fancifully wrought into flourishes and flowers, which were secured by a large padlock and chain, and whose railings rose to sharp points.
“Now you’ll be all right to wait here for a little and won’t get up to no mischief, will you, Master Johnnie?”
I nodded agreement and she went into the cottage. Overcome by curiosity I approached the gate and peered through the bars, whose black paint was peeling off, revealing the rust underneath. Beyond was a courtyard with a paved surface whose stones were not merely overgrown with moss and grass but had become loosened and dislodged by the passage of long years of neglect.
Some distance away I could see the shape of a house looming up. Although it was sideways on to me, its huge size was apparent, and so, too, was its state of delapidation.
Its windows were either shuttered or the paint was flaking off the bars and frames; no smoke rose from its chimneys, many of which were missing pots; slates had slipped from the part of the roof that was visible to me; and altogether the house appeared to be a deserted and uninhabited ruin.
As I watched, however, a figure, dressed in the clothes of a working man and pushing a hand-barrow, came round the corner of the house. He began A WISE CHILD
45
to gather up the pieces of fallen masonry and shattered slate that lay about on the ground, presumably blown down in the storm the night before.
After a moment two more figures approached from round the corner of the house. I watched them, knowing that I should move away from the gate, but something prevented me. The great empty house of Hougham (or was it Iluffam?) seemed to have touched some chord inside me, and awakened, it seemed to me, an echo in my innermost being whose summons I was powerless to resist.
As the newcomers came close enough for me to be able to make them out, I saw that they were a little girl of about my age and a tall, elderly lady, and that both of them were dressed in black. The lady stopped to talk to the workman, but the little girl must have seen me for she continued to walk slowly up to the gate opposite me. Her face was very pale — so pale that I wondered if she had been ill — so that her dark eyes looked all the darker. She held her hands inside a muff she carried in front of her, and a strange, solemn little figure she made altogether.
“You’re not one of the village boys, are you?” she said.
Under the terms of the promise I had given my mother, I wasn’t allowed to speak to strangers, but, I reasoned to myself, surely this only referred to adults and so a little girl did not count.
“No,” I replied.
“I’m strictly forbidden to have anything to do with the children from the village,” she explained.
“But don’t you live in the village?”
“No. I live here.”
“Do you mean in that big house?” I wondered.
“Yes.”
She spoke as if it were the least interesting fact in the world.
“Is that lady your mother?”
“No,” she replied. “My mother is dead. And so is my father. You see, I’m an orphan.”
An orphan? Here was an interesting word and I felt envious of her right to it. Then I supposed I was at least halfway towards being an orphan too.
“That lady is the housekeeper here,” she explained. “Of course, I should have a governess. I’ve had several, but my guardians said that none of them suited. Mrs Peppercorn is very strict about not allowing me to speak to strangers.”
Behind the little girl I could see the tall figure
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