FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160   161   162   163   164   165  
166   167   168   169   170   171   172   173   174   175   176   177   178   179   180   181   182   183   184   185   186   187   188   189   190   >>   >|  
f thistle-down or a snowball, what a heavy foot Mrs. Huntley has! The next moment, I am disabused. Mrs. Huntley has clearly not moved. It was not _she_ that scrambled. She is lying back in a deep arm-chair, her silky head gently denting the flowered cushion, the points of two pretty shoes slightly advanced toward the fire, and a large feather fan leisurely waving to and fro, in one white hand. Beyond the _fan_ movement she is not _doing_ any thing that I can detect. "How do you do?" say I, bustling in, in a hurry to reach the fire. "How comfortable you look! how cold it is!--Algy!!" For the enigma of the noise is solved. It was Algy who shuffled and scuffled--yes, scuffled up from the low stool which he has evidently been sharing with the pretty shoes--at Mrs. Huntley's feet, on to his long legs, on which he is now standing, not at all at ease. He does not answer. "ALGY!" repeat I, in a tone of the profoundest, accentedest surprise, involuntarily turning my back upon my hostess and facing my brother. "Well, what about me?" he cries tartly, irritated (and no wonder) by my open mouth and tragical air. "What _has_ brought you here?" I ask slowly, and with a tactless emphasis. "The fly from the White Hart," he answers, trying to laugh, but looking confused and angry. "But I mean--I thought you told me, when I asked you to Tempest this week, that you could not get away for an _hour_!" "No more I could," he answers impatiently, yet stammering; "quite unexpected--did not know when I wrote--have to be back to-night." "Will not you come nearer the fire?" says Mrs. Huntley, in her slow sugared tones, with a well-bred ignoring of our squabble. "I am sure that you must be perished with cold." I recollect myself and comply. As I sit down I catch a glimpse of myself in the glass. It is indeed difficult to abstain from the sight of one's self, however little fond one may be of it, so thickly is the room set round with rose-draped mirrors. For the moment, O friends, I will own to you that I appear to myself nothing less than _brutally_ ugly. I know that I am not so in reality, that the disfigurement is only temporary, but none the less does the consciousness deeply, deeply depress me. My nose is of a lively scarlet, which the warmth of the room is quickly deepening into a lowering purple. My quick passage through the air has set my hat a little awry, giving me a falsely rakish air, and the wind has loosened my hair-
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160   161   162   163   164   165  
166   167   168   169   170   171   172   173   174   175   176   177   178   179   180   181   182   183   184   185   186   187   188   189   190   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

Huntley

 

pretty

 
moment
 

deeply

 
answers
 

scuffled

 
squabble
 

ignoring

 

comply

 
recollect

perished

 

sugared

 
unexpected
 

Tempest

 

thought

 

nearer

 

impatiently

 

stammering

 

thickly

 
warmth

scarlet

 
quickly
 

deepening

 

lively

 

temporary

 

consciousness

 

depress

 

lowering

 

purple

 

rakish


falsely

 

loosened

 

giving

 
passage
 
disfigurement
 

reality

 

abstain

 

glimpse

 

difficult

 

brutally


draped
 

mirrors

 

friends

 

movement

 

Beyond

 
feather
 

leisurely

 

waving

 

detect

 

enigma