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Zara looked so annoyed when this happened that Mary tried to seem unobservant. But after one particularly violent explosion, the words: Oh, what do you do for it? escaped her in spite of herself.
Well, then! said Mother: and her cheerful old tone was like a verbal poke in the ribs. He might be easier to manage, Mary and thoughtless . . . or stingy . . . or attentive to other women. You little know what youre spared, child, in not having that to endure. There are some poor wives would think you like the princess in the fairytale, who couldnt sleep for the pea. She fell into a reverie over this, sat looking into the heart of the fire. Men? ah, my dear! to me even the best of em seem only like so many children. We have to be mothers to em as well as wives, Mary; watch over them the same as over those weve borne; and feel thankful if their nature is sound, behind all the little surface tricks and naughtinesses. Men may err and stray, my dear, but they must always find us here to come back to, and find us forgiving and unchanged. But tut, tut, what a sermon your old mothers preaching you! As if you werent the happiest of wives, and she laid her soft old hand on Marys. I got led into it, I suppose, because of the strong tie between us: youre more like me, Mary, than any of the rest. Another thing, too: Im a very old woman, my dear, and shant live to see the end of the days business. So always remember, love, Mothers advice to you was this: not to worry over small things the big ones will need all your strength. And you cant do Richards experiencing for him, Mary, however much youd like to spare him the knocks and jars of it. But I do declare, here they come. Now what will they say to finding us gossiping in the dark?
Yes, dear? Im coming. Why, Richard, whatever is wrong now? For with a despairing gesture Mahony had tossed his hat on the hall-table, and himself dropped heavily on a chair.
This accomplished, Mary drew on her gloves, which she had removed for the sherry and biscuits brought forth by John from a cupboard, with a Both dry unfortunately, my dear girl, since I am not often honoured by visits from the sweet-toothed sex.
Indeed, I dont want to, said Mary, and sitting down untied her bonnet-strings and threw them over her shoulders. I dont know WHEN Ive felt so uncomfortable. I was ushered into the drawing-room it seemed crowded with people and there she sat, holding our cards and looking from them to me and back again. I heard something about the new doctors wife as I went in. Then she asked to what she owed my visit, said she hadnt the pleasure and so on all in front of these other people the Brookes of Shirley I think they were that retired old General . . . you met him once, you know, and thought him very stuck-up. I had to explain how it had happened; I felt my face getting as red as fire. I didnt know whether to walk out again or what, and she didnt help me didnt get up, or shake hands, or anything. Fortunately a very nice person a sort of companion, I think asked me to rest a little after my drive, and I thought it would make things less awkward for everybody if I did so; so I just sat down for a minute and said a word or two, and then bowed and left. She came with me to the door the companion, I mean.
But before she reached the house, a fearful suspicion crossed her mind.
After this one outburst, however, he relapsed into his former moody silence; and they sat smoking, with scant speech, till Mahony rose to leave. Then it turned out that John had forgotten the existence of a previous engagement on Mahonys side, and now made a lame attempt to overthrow it. (Looks as if he didnt want to be left to his own thoughts!) This being impossible, Mahony suggested that John should accompany him, and undertook to guarantee him a hearty welcome: it would be well worth his while to hear Miss Timms-Kelly sing. At first John pooh-poohed the suggestion; musical evenings were not in his line; and though he had knocked up against old Timms-Kelly at the Club, he had never met the daughter. However, in the end he allowed himself to be persuaded; and off they went, in company.
Miss Timms-Kelly herself bore the brunt of the entertainment; occasionally mingling in a duo with some manly second, or with the strains of Mahonys flute; but chiefly in solo. For the thin little tones of the other ladies, their tinkly performances of Maidens Prayers and Warblings at Eve, or the rollicking strains of a sea ballad (which was mostly what the gentlemen were good for) stood none of them an earthly chance against a voice like hers. It was a contralto, with, in its middle and lower registers, tones of a strange, dark intensity which made of it a real VOIX SOMBRE; yet of such exceptional compass that it was also equal to OR SAI CHI LONORE and NON MI DIR, BELL IDOL MIO. Mahony used to say there was something in its lower notes that got at you, like fingers feeling round your heart. Ladies, while admitting its volume and beauty, were apt to be rendered rather uncomfortable by it; and under its influence would fall to fidgeting in their seats.
Ballarat? Her first visit? Zara! You surely dont mean . . .