Read Online After My Fashion by John Cowper Powys - Free Book Online Page B

their meal.
    They moved off together back again up the street which was now golden and mellow with the slanting sunshine.
    Richard felt tempted, when the artist had secured his belongings at the close-gate, to suggest that he should accompany them some portion of their way, for the fact of his having, as he felt, put the young man into his place gave him a feeling of magnanimity.
    But Nelly Moreton bade him goodbye at that point in so very definite a manner that his project was nipped in the bud. Canyot, pleased at the thought of having his friend to himself for that pleasant walk through the buttercups, shook hands with him graciously, almost apologetically. And Richard himself turnedaway not unpleased, since her final word to him was emphatic. ‘You must come over and see my father.’
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    It was not till much later in the day, when recalling every incident of that afternoon, that he remembered a sharp piercing look that Canyot had turned upon him and Nelly at one moment during their conversation. That fellow can’t be easily fooled , he thought.

Chapter 3
    It was always a luxurious and pleasant moment for Nelly, when after a knock as gentle as her round knuckles could administer, the all-competent Grace brought her hot water and tea. It was delicious to lie with closed eyes, still half-wrapped in the filmy cloud of sleep, while the sweet airs floated in through the open windows, mingled with the crooning of the dove and the reedy call of the blackbird.
    Generally she let Grace put down the tray and the bright-polished can, and carry off her outdoor shoes, without movement or sign. But on the morning after her day in Selshurst she sat up in bed with wide-open eyes.
    â€˜I likes to see ’ee with all that pretty hair, Miss Nelly. Mercy, ‘tis a shame a lovely young lady like you should have to fasten ‘un up. None do know,’ cept those as sees ’ee like this and They Above, how winsome a body ’ee be grown into.’
    Nelly pushed back her hair with both hands. ‘Where’s my ribbon?’ she said. Grace stooped, picked it up from the floor, lifted the hair carefully from the slender neck and tied it back, giving it a final caress with her great hand as if it belonged to a favourite doll.
    â€˜How’s Mr Moreton this morning, Grace?’
    The maid’s countenance became grave. ‘He ’ave worked in’s study since afore I was up, Miss, I do fear it; working and thinking, thinking and muttering to ’isself. Not that it’s my place to sy anything, Miss Nelly; but us remembers what us do remember, and how ’twas like this afore ’ee wrote that letter to them great ones wotworrited ’ee so dreadful. I didn’t mean like to trouble ’ee with what ’ee do know as well as I, Miss. But I ’eard the Master with my own ears telling Mr Lintot only yesterday that there ’baint no God in Heaven.’ Twas terrible to listen to ’un, strike me blind, if it weren’t; for ’a did carry on so about one thing and another that Mr Lintot he up and said he couldn’t listen to any more on’t.’ Tweren’t right nor natural that he should listen to such things, spoke by one of Master’s holy profession. There, Miss Nelly,’ ee mustn’t take on. What must be must be; what’s writ to come’ll surely come; and them as calls down Tuesday’s rain on Monday’s roses will never see the gates of Jerusalem.’
    Saying this with a consolatory leer, as if it were a piece of the most cynical worldly wisdom, Grace picked up her mistress’s shoes, still all covered with gold-dust from the walk through the buttercups, and left the room.
    Nelly jumped hastily out of bed and pulled the curtains across the open windows. She bathed and dressed rapidly today, cutting short the long leisurely peeps she was accustomed to take in intervals of her dressing at the familiar face of the distant