Part 2 (1/2)
”That's very far for him to walk. I wonder he doesn't give it up. I suppose, though, he can't afford to do that.”
”I don't think he has ever been the same man since Prissy's marriage,”
said Mrs Hunt, ”though he plays the organ more beautifully than ever.”
With her spectacles perched upon her nose, her hands crossed comfortably on her lap, and a most beaming smile on her face, Mrs Hunt looked the picture of contented idleness, while her guests st.i.tched away busily, with flying fingers, and heads bent over their work. She had done about half an inch of the pattern on her strip, and now, her needle being unthreaded, made no attempt to continue it.
”Delia's coming in presently,” she remarked placidly, meeting Miss Gibbins' sharp glance as it rested on her idle hands; ”she will take my work a little while--ah, here she is,” as the door opened.
A girl of about sixteen came towards them, stopping to speak to the ladies as she pa.s.sed them on her way up the room. She was short for her age, and rather squarely built, holding herself very upright, and walking with calmness and decision.
Everything about Delia Hunt seemed to express determination, from her firm chin to her dark curly hair, which would always look rough, although it was brushed back from her forehead and fastened up securely in a knot at the back of her head. Nothing could make it lie flat and smooth, however, and in spite of all Delia's efforts, it curled and twisted itself defiantly wherever it had a chance. Perhaps, by doing so, it helped to soften a face which would have been a little hard without the good-tempered expression which generally filled the bright brown eyes.
”That sort of marriage never answers,” said Mrs Winn, as Delia reached her mother's side. ”Just see what unhappiness it caused. It was a bitter blow to Mr and Mrs Forrest; it made poor old Mr Goodwin miserable, and separated him from his only child; and as to Prissy herself--well, the poor thing didn't live to find out her mistake, and left her little daughter to feel the consequences of it.”
”Poor little motherless darling,” murmured Mrs Hunt.--”Del, my love, go on with my work a little, while I say a few words to old Mrs Crow.”
Delia took her mother's place, threaded her needle, raised her eyebrows with an amused air, as she examined the work accomplished, and bent her head industriously over it.
”Doesn't it seem quite impossible,” said Miss Gibbins, ”to realise that Prissy's daughter is really coming to Waverley to-morrow! Why, it seems the other day that I saw Prissy married in Dornton church!”
”It must be fifteen years ago at the least,” said Mrs Winn, in such deep tones that they seemed to roll round the room. ”The child must be fourteen years old.”
”She wore grey cashmere,” said Miss Gibbins, reflectively, ”and a little white bonnet. And the sun streamed in upon her through the painted window. I remember thinking she looked like a dove. I wonder if the child is like her.”
”The Forrests have never taken much notice of Mr Goodwin, since the marriage,” said Mrs Hurst, ”but I suppose, now his grandchild is to live there, all that will be altered.”
Delia looked quickly up at the speaker, but checked the words on her lips, and said nothing.
”You can't do away with the ties of blood,” said Mrs Winn; ”the child's his grandchild. You can't ignore that.”
”Why should you want to ignore it?” asked Delia, suddenly raising her eyes and looking straight at her.
The attack was so unexpected that Mrs Winn had no answer ready. She remained speechless, with her large grey eyes wider open than usual, for quite a minute before she said, ”These are matters, Delia, which you are too young to understand.”
”Perhaps I am,” answered Delia; ”but I can understand one thing very well, and that is, that Mr Goodwin is a grandfather that any one ought to be proud of, and that, if his relations are not proud of him, it is because they're not worthy of him.”
”Oh, well,” said Miss Gibbins, shaking her head rather nervously as she looked at Delia, ”we all know what a champion Mr Goodwin has in you, Delia. 'Music with its silver sound' draws you together, as Shakespeare says. And, of course, we're all proud of our organist in Dornton, and, of course, he has great talent. Still, you know, when all's said and done, he _is_ a music-master, and in quite a different position from the Forrests.”
”Socially,” said Mrs Winn, placing her large, white hand flat on the table beside her, to emphasise her words, ”Mr Goodwin is not on the same footing. When Delia is older she will know what that means.”
”I know it now,” replied Delia. ”I never consider them on the same footing at all. There are plenty of clergymen everywhere, but where could you find any one who can play the violin like Mr Goodwin?”
She fixed her eyes with innocent inquiry on Mrs Winn. Mrs Hurst bridled a little.
”I do think,” she said, ”that clergymen occupy a position quite apart.
I like Mr Goodwin very much. I've always thought him a nice old gentleman, and Herbert admires his playing, but--”
”Of course, of course,” said Mrs Winn, ”we must be all agreed as to that.--You're too fond, my dear Delia, of giving your opinion on subjects where ignorance should keep you silent. A girl of your age should try to behave herself, lowly and reverently, to all her betters.”
”So I do,” said Delia, with a smile; ”in fact, I feel so lowly and reverent sometimes, that I could almost wors.h.i.+p Mr Goodwin. I am ready to humble myself to the dust, when I hear him playing the violin.”