Cousin Phillis by Elizabeth Gaskell Read Free Book Online

see him now, with his
hands behind his back, listening intently to all explanations of
tillage, and the different processes of farming; occasionally taking up
an implement, as if unconsciously, and examining it with a critical
eye, and now and then asking a question, which I could see was
considered as pertinent by his companion. Then we returned to look at
the cattle, housed and bedded in expectation of the snow-storm hanging
black on the western horizon, and my father learned the points of a cow
with as much attention as if he meant to turn farmer. He had his little
book that he used for mechanical memoranda and measurements in his
pocket, and he took it out to write down 'straight back', small
muzzle', 'deep barrel', and I know not what else, under the head 'cow'.
He was very critical on a turnip-cutting machine, the clumsiness of
which first incited him to talk; and when we went into the house he
sate thinking and quiet for a bit, while Phillis and her mother made
the last preparations for tea, with a little unheeded apology from
cousin Holman, because we were not sitting in the best parlour, which
she thought might be chilly on so cold a night. I wanted nothing better
than the blazing, crackling fire that sent a glow over all the
house-place, and warmed the snowy flags under our feet till they seemed
to have more heat than the crimson rug right in front of the fire.
After tea, as Phillis and I were talking together very happily, I heard
an irrepressible exclamation from cousin Holman,—
    'Whatever is the man about!'
    And on looking round, I saw my father taking a straight burning stick
out of the fire, and, after waiting for a minute, and examining the
charred end to see if it was fitted for his purpose, he went to the
hard-wood dresser, scoured to the last pitch of whiteness and
cleanliness, and began drawing with the stick; the best substitute for
chalk or charcoal within his reach, for his pocket-book pencil was not
strong or bold enough for his purpose. When he had done, he began to
explain his new model of a turnip-cutting machine to the minister, who
had been watching him in silence all the time. Cousin Holman had, in
the meantime, taken a duster out of a drawer, and, under pretence of
being as much interested as her husband in the drawing, was secretly
trying on an outside mark how easily it would come off, and whether it
would leave her dresser as white as before. Then Phillis was sent for
the book on dynamics about which I had been consulted during my first
visit, and my father had to explain many difficulties, which he did in
language as clear as his mind, making drawings with his stick wherever
they were needed as illustrations, the minister sitting with his
massive head resting on his hands, his elbows on the table, almost
unconscious of Phillis, leaning over and listening greedily, with her
hand on his shoulder, sucking in information like her father's own
daughter. I was rather sorry for cousin Holman; I had been so once or
twice before; for do what she would, she was completely unable even to
understand the pleasure her husband and daughter took in intellectual
pursuits, much less to care in the least herself for the pursuits
themselves, and was thus unavoidably thrown out of some of their
interests. I had once or twice thought she was a little jealous of her
own child, as a fitter companion for her husband than she was herself;
and I fancied the minister himself was aware of this feeling, for I had
noticed an occasional sudden change of subject, and a tenderness of
appeal in his voice as he spoke to her, which always made her look
contented and peaceful again. I do not think that Phillis ever
perceived these little shadows; in the first place, she had such
complete reverence for her parents that she listened to them both as if
they had been St Peter and St Paul; and besides, she was always too
much engrossed with any matter in hand to think about other people's
manners and looks.
    This night I could see,