better, not so deflated.
She had a sudden longing to be alone, to make new resolutions to herself, resolutions concerning patience and understanding, resolutions to think less about her self and her own feelings and more about .
Donald and his needs. But what were his needs? This last was flung at her from a section of her mind that had;
become surprisingly analytical in the last month. This] section would tear things apart and present them to| her and say, "Stop hoodwinking yourself." Once it had| said, "Tell Aunt Aggie," and she cried at it,
"What!| Do you think I'm mad?" This section was becoming! rather frightening, for it was taking on a permanency^! and almost creating another personality, so much so that| she referred to it as a separate person, at times saying | to herself, "Take no notice." Once it had frightened herj by saying, "Aunt Aggie was right, you know. He didn't want the actual money, just the things the money could buy. Look at what he's had lately, that rigging out of the choir boys, the new hassocks, chairs for the church hall, and now he's touting for the five hundred to close the subscriptions for the screen. Well, I'll see him in--' " Shss! Shss! " she admonished the voice that was an echo of her father's.
"What are you going to do with yourself this afternoon?" said the doctor.
"I thought of having a walk on the fells."
"Good idea. The higher you get, the better the air. Walk until you're tired. How are you sleeping?"
"Not too well."
"I'll send up some tablets for you, just enough for two or three nights. It's a habit you know, this sleeping business."
"Everything's a habit."
He was at the door now and he turned and looked at her for a moment, then nodded and said with a smile, "Yes, you're right there; even living is just a series of habits."
The doctor gone. Grace went upstairs again and changed her shoes and picked up a coat. Then she crossed the landing to the storeroom. A door from this room led to an outside staircase which had two purposes: that of a fire escape and an easy means of carrying the fruit into the house. This side of the house, which was the back, was accessible to the orchard. Last year, under Ben's direction, she had packed the fruits away.
As she passed the greenhouses she hailed Ben, and he came to the door and, looking from her light coat to the sky, he said, "You makin' for the fells, ma'am?"
"Yes, Ben."
"Ah well then, I wouldn't go far."
"No?" She looked at him in surprise.
"And it such a beautiful day?"
"Aye, yes now. Be different in an hour or so's time. Look over there."
He pointed over the top of the trees to a small group of harmless-looking clouds, and he added, "That's a sure sign. Bet you what you like we have rain afore we have tea."
"Oh, don't say that, Ben."
"I do, ma'am, so be careful."
"I will, Ben, but I'll be back before tea."
"Do that, ma'am, do that." He nodded and gave her what was to him a smile.
She let herself out through the gate, and within a few minutes was in the wood taking the path that she had first come to know when she had walked behind Andrew Maclntyre.
It was strange, she sometimes thought, that she had seen Andrew Maclntyre twice on that one day and only twice since. The first time was on the road above the village. He was in a field which was somewhat higher than the road and his head was on the level with Adelaide Toole's as she sat on her horse. They were both laughing and she remembered that they looked young and happy. She remembered also that after seeing them she was left with a feeling of loneliness, not because they looked and sounded happy but, strangely, because they were young. Adelaide was her own age, yet she had felt old enough on that day to be her mother, for it was a day following a night when she had cried herself to sleep. Adelaide had greeted her cheerily on that occasion, but Andrew Maclntyre had not spoken, he had merely inclined his ;
head towards her and his face had taken on a sober look, |
She had a sudden longing to be alone, to make new resolutions to herself, resolutions concerning patience and understanding, resolutions to think less about her self and her own feelings and more about .
Donald and his needs. But what were his needs? This last was flung at her from a section of her mind that had;
become surprisingly analytical in the last month. This] section would tear things apart and present them to| her and say, "Stop hoodwinking yourself." Once it had| said, "Tell Aunt Aggie," and she cried at it,
"What!| Do you think I'm mad?" This section was becoming! rather frightening, for it was taking on a permanency^! and almost creating another personality, so much so that| she referred to it as a separate person, at times saying | to herself, "Take no notice." Once it had frightened herj by saying, "Aunt Aggie was right, you know. He didn't want the actual money, just the things the money could buy. Look at what he's had lately, that rigging out of the choir boys, the new hassocks, chairs for the church hall, and now he's touting for the five hundred to close the subscriptions for the screen. Well, I'll see him in--' " Shss! Shss! " she admonished the voice that was an echo of her father's.
"What are you going to do with yourself this afternoon?" said the doctor.
"I thought of having a walk on the fells."
"Good idea. The higher you get, the better the air. Walk until you're tired. How are you sleeping?"
"Not too well."
"I'll send up some tablets for you, just enough for two or three nights. It's a habit you know, this sleeping business."
"Everything's a habit."
He was at the door now and he turned and looked at her for a moment, then nodded and said with a smile, "Yes, you're right there; even living is just a series of habits."
The doctor gone. Grace went upstairs again and changed her shoes and picked up a coat. Then she crossed the landing to the storeroom. A door from this room led to an outside staircase which had two purposes: that of a fire escape and an easy means of carrying the fruit into the house. This side of the house, which was the back, was accessible to the orchard. Last year, under Ben's direction, she had packed the fruits away.
As she passed the greenhouses she hailed Ben, and he came to the door and, looking from her light coat to the sky, he said, "You makin' for the fells, ma'am?"
"Yes, Ben."
"Ah well then, I wouldn't go far."
"No?" She looked at him in surprise.
"And it such a beautiful day?"
"Aye, yes now. Be different in an hour or so's time. Look over there."
He pointed over the top of the trees to a small group of harmless-looking clouds, and he added, "That's a sure sign. Bet you what you like we have rain afore we have tea."
"Oh, don't say that, Ben."
"I do, ma'am, so be careful."
"I will, Ben, but I'll be back before tea."
"Do that, ma'am, do that." He nodded and gave her what was to him a smile.
She let herself out through the gate, and within a few minutes was in the wood taking the path that she had first come to know when she had walked behind Andrew Maclntyre.
It was strange, she sometimes thought, that she had seen Andrew Maclntyre twice on that one day and only twice since. The first time was on the road above the village. He was in a field which was somewhat higher than the road and his head was on the level with Adelaide Toole's as she sat on her horse. They were both laughing and she remembered that they looked young and happy. She remembered also that after seeing them she was left with a feeling of loneliness, not because they looked and sounded happy but, strangely, because they were young. Adelaide was her own age, yet she had felt old enough on that day to be her mother, for it was a day following a night when she had cried herself to sleep. Adelaide had greeted her cheerily on that occasion, but Andrew Maclntyre had not spoken, he had merely inclined his ;
head towards her and his face had taken on a sober look, |
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