Read Online My Brilliant Career by Miles Franklin - Free Book Online Page B

like clearing the table at a bound, seizing and beginning to read both books, and rushing in to the piano and beginning to play upon it there and then, and examine the pictures—all three things at once. Fortunately for the reputation of my sanity, however, Aunt Helen had by this time conducted me to a pretty little bedroom, and saying it was to be mine, helped me to doff my cape and hat.
    While warming my fingers at the fire, my eyes were arrested by a beautiful portrait hanging above the mantelpiece. It represented a lovely girl in the prime of youth and beauty, and attired in floating white dinner draperies.
    â€œOh, Aunt Helen! Isn’t she lovely? It’s you, isn’t it?”
    â€œNo. Do you not recognize it as your mother? It was taken just before her marriage. I must leave you now, but come out as soon as you arrange yourself—your grandmother will be anxious to see you.”
    When Aunt Helen left me, I plastered my hair down in an instant without even a glance in the mirror. I took not a particle of interest in my attire, and would go about dressed anyhow. This was one symptom which inclined my mother to the belief of my possible insanity, as to most young girls dress is a great delight. I had tried once or twice to make myself look nice by dressing prettily, but by my own judgment, considering I looked as ugly as ever, I had given it up as a bad job.
    The time which I should have spent in arranging my toilet passed in gazing at my mother’s portrait. It was one of the loveliest faces imaginable. The features may not have been perfect according to rule of thumb, but the expression was simplyangelic—sweet, winning, gentle, and happy. I turned from the contemplation of it to another photograph—one of my father—in a silver frame on the dressing table. This, too, was a fine countenance, possessed of well-cut features and refined expression. This was the prince who had won Lucy Bossier from her home. I looked around my pretty bedroom—it had been my mother’s in the days of her maidenhood. In an exclusive city boarding school, and amid the pleasant surroundings of this home, her youth had been spent.
    I thought of a man and his wife at Possum Gully. The man was bleary-eyed, disreputable in appearance, and failed to fulfil his duties as a father and a citizen. The woman was work-roughened and temper-soured by endless care and an unavailing struggle against poverty. Could that pair possibly be identical with this?
    This was life as proved by my parents! What right had I to expect any better yield from it? I shut my eyes and shuddered at the possibilities and probabilities of my future. It was for this that my mother had yielded up her youth, freedom, strength; for this she had sacrificed the greatest possession of woman.
    Here I made my way to the dining room, where Grannie was waiting for me and gave me another hug.
    â€œCome here, child, and sit beside me near the fire; but first let me have a look at you,” and she held me at arm’s length.
    â€œDear, oh, dear, what a little thing you are, and not a bit like any of your relations! I am glad your skin is so nice and clear; all my children had beautiful complexions. Goodness me, I never saw such hair! A plait thicker than my arm and almost to your knees! It is that beautiful, bright brown like your aunt’s. Your mother’s was flaxen. I must see your hair loose when you are going to bed. There is nothing I admire so much as a beautiful head of hair.”
    The maid announced that dinner was ready, Grannie vigorously rang a little bell, Aunt Helen, a lady, and a gentleman appeared from the drawing room, and Mr. Hawden came in from the back. I discovered that the lady and gentleman were a neighboring squatter and a new governess he was taking home.
    Grannie, seeing them pass that afternoon in the rain, had gone out and prevailed upon them to spend the night at Caddagat.
    Mr. Hawden took no notice of me now,