Very pretty
they are, like yourself; but very wild, and very little seen. Where is your
brother, Milly; is not he older than you?'
'I don't know where; and he is older by six years and a bit.'
By-and-by, when Milly was gesticulating to frighten some herons by the
river's brink into the air, Cousin Monica said confidentially to me--
'He has run away, I'm told--I wish I could believe it--and enlisted in a
regiment going to India, perhaps the best thing for him. Did you see him
here before his judicious self-banishment?'
'No.'
'Well, I suppose you have had no loss. Doctor Bryerly says from all he can
learn he is a very bad young man. And now tell me, dear, _is_ Silas kind to
you?'
'Yes, always gentle, just as you saw him to-day; but we don't see a great
deal of him--very little, in fact.'
'And how do you like your life and the people?' she asked.
'My life, very well; and the people, _pretty_ well. There's an old women we
don't like, old Wyat, she is cross and mysterious and tells untruths; but I
don't think she is dishonest--so Mary Quince says--and that, you know, is a
point; and there is a family, father and daughter, called Hawkes, who live
in the Windmill Wood, who are perfect savages, though my uncle says they
don't mean it; but they are very disagreeable, rude people; and except them
we see very little of the servants or other people.
Pages:
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444