of it,” she said, and sighed.
“At least we are not enjoined to live in celibate poverty,” Essex said.
“I agree that I would not be so willing to believe in Aunt Fanny if her messages dictated that I give away all my earthly possessions. But then, of course, Aunt Fanny would never accept such a message; it could not have been meant for her .”
“I wonder if there are others. Other places, on the earth. Learning these same unbelievable things, right now.”
“That presupposes the existence of other Aunt Fannys. I cannot bear to think of it.”
“When we believe,” Essex said seriously, “we must do so wholly. I am prepared to follow Aunt Fanny because I agree with you: it is the only positive statement about our futures we have ever heard, but once I have taken her side I will not be shaken. If I can bring myself to believe in Aunt Fanny’s golden world, nothing else will ever do for me; I want it too badly.”
“I wish I had your faith,” Mrs. Halloran said.
3
The weather, of course, continued fair. No one could find the snake behind the bookcase, and the hedges, in particular the hedges along the walk to the secret garden, were clipped to bare bone. Aunt Fanny wore her mother’s diamonds every day, even at breakfast, and wore, besides, a look of quiet satisfaction peculiarly irritating to Mrs. Halloran. Maryjane’s asthma improved somewhat. Essex, who was skillful in slight arts, carved a tiny totem pole for Fancy’s doll house, with a recognizable likeness of Aunt Fanny at the bottom. Mr. Halloran asked that his nurse stop reading him weekly magazines and begin on Robinson Crusoe , and during the long afternoons anyone passing the doorway to Mr. Halloran’s sunfilled room might hear the flat level voice continuing, “A little after noon I found the sea very calm, and the tide ebbed so far out that I could come within a quarter of a mile of the ship, and here I found a fresh renewing of my grief; for I saw evidently, that if we had kept on board, we had been all safe . . .” Mrs. Halloran sketched out a rough plan for a tiny amphitheatre to be constructed on a little hill beyond the orchard, without announcing any particular design for its possible use, and one morning received word of the imminent arrival of guests.
“I am expecting guests,” she said at breakfast, folding the letter carefully and putting it back into its envelope.
“Here?” said Aunt Fanny blankly.
“Where else?” said Mrs. Halloran.
“This is still a house of mourning, Orianna. Had you forgotten?”
“You never remember Lionel, Fanny, except when he might be an inconvenience to me. I am expecting guests. A Mrs. Willow and her two daughters. Very old friends of mine.”
“From another walk of life, I suppose,” Aunt Fanny said with a little smile. “If they are such very old friends of yours.”
“No, Aunt Fanny, they will not please you. How delightful that I should be in a position to entertain them even if they do not please Aunt Fanny.”
“Two daughters?” said Miss Ogilvie. “Will they attend my little school for Fancy?”
“I hardly think so. The older of them must be nearly thirty, and I expect there is very little she can learn from you now, Miss Ogilvie.”
“At least,” said Aunt Fanny, with the same little smile, “we need not expect them to stay for long.”
“I have not seen Augusta Willow for nearly fifteen years,” Mrs. Halloran said with seeming irrelevancy, “but I cannot believe that she has changed that much.”
“When are they coming?” Miss Ogilvie asked.
“The sixteenth. That would be Friday, Essex, would it not?”
_____
A car was sent late Friday afternoon to meet Mrs. Willow and her daughters, and Maryjane finding herself unequal to meeting company so late in the day, Mrs. Halloran waited in the drawing room with Mr. Halloran by the fire, and Essex and Miss Ogilvie and Aunt Fanny to receive her very old friend, whose voice was heard from the driveway as she
“At least we are not enjoined to live in celibate poverty,” Essex said.
“I agree that I would not be so willing to believe in Aunt Fanny if her messages dictated that I give away all my earthly possessions. But then, of course, Aunt Fanny would never accept such a message; it could not have been meant for her .”
“I wonder if there are others. Other places, on the earth. Learning these same unbelievable things, right now.”
“That presupposes the existence of other Aunt Fannys. I cannot bear to think of it.”
“When we believe,” Essex said seriously, “we must do so wholly. I am prepared to follow Aunt Fanny because I agree with you: it is the only positive statement about our futures we have ever heard, but once I have taken her side I will not be shaken. If I can bring myself to believe in Aunt Fanny’s golden world, nothing else will ever do for me; I want it too badly.”
“I wish I had your faith,” Mrs. Halloran said.
3
The weather, of course, continued fair. No one could find the snake behind the bookcase, and the hedges, in particular the hedges along the walk to the secret garden, were clipped to bare bone. Aunt Fanny wore her mother’s diamonds every day, even at breakfast, and wore, besides, a look of quiet satisfaction peculiarly irritating to Mrs. Halloran. Maryjane’s asthma improved somewhat. Essex, who was skillful in slight arts, carved a tiny totem pole for Fancy’s doll house, with a recognizable likeness of Aunt Fanny at the bottom. Mr. Halloran asked that his nurse stop reading him weekly magazines and begin on Robinson Crusoe , and during the long afternoons anyone passing the doorway to Mr. Halloran’s sunfilled room might hear the flat level voice continuing, “A little after noon I found the sea very calm, and the tide ebbed so far out that I could come within a quarter of a mile of the ship, and here I found a fresh renewing of my grief; for I saw evidently, that if we had kept on board, we had been all safe . . .” Mrs. Halloran sketched out a rough plan for a tiny amphitheatre to be constructed on a little hill beyond the orchard, without announcing any particular design for its possible use, and one morning received word of the imminent arrival of guests.
“I am expecting guests,” she said at breakfast, folding the letter carefully and putting it back into its envelope.
“Here?” said Aunt Fanny blankly.
“Where else?” said Mrs. Halloran.
“This is still a house of mourning, Orianna. Had you forgotten?”
“You never remember Lionel, Fanny, except when he might be an inconvenience to me. I am expecting guests. A Mrs. Willow and her two daughters. Very old friends of mine.”
“From another walk of life, I suppose,” Aunt Fanny said with a little smile. “If they are such very old friends of yours.”
“No, Aunt Fanny, they will not please you. How delightful that I should be in a position to entertain them even if they do not please Aunt Fanny.”
“Two daughters?” said Miss Ogilvie. “Will they attend my little school for Fancy?”
“I hardly think so. The older of them must be nearly thirty, and I expect there is very little she can learn from you now, Miss Ogilvie.”
“At least,” said Aunt Fanny, with the same little smile, “we need not expect them to stay for long.”
“I have not seen Augusta Willow for nearly fifteen years,” Mrs. Halloran said with seeming irrelevancy, “but I cannot believe that she has changed that much.”
“When are they coming?” Miss Ogilvie asked.
“The sixteenth. That would be Friday, Essex, would it not?”
_____
A car was sent late Friday afternoon to meet Mrs. Willow and her daughters, and Maryjane finding herself unequal to meeting company so late in the day, Mrs. Halloran waited in the drawing room with Mr. Halloran by the fire, and Essex and Miss Ogilvie and Aunt Fanny to receive her very old friend, whose voice was heard from the driveway as she
Similar Books
