The Solitary House by Lynn Shepherd Read Free Book Online Page A

be, and almost overcome, saying, “Oh, thank you, thank you!” again and again. But he merely placed his arm about my waist, and made me sit down on the little chair by the fire and take some of the tea that had been thoughtfully placed there in preparation for my arrival.
    “My dear Hester,” he said kindly, a few moments later, “how you are a-tremble! Your cup quite clatters against the saucer.”
    How could I not be moved? Sitting there with him, seeing him smile upon me, and feeling, for the first time since Mama died, that I was valued and cherished, and had a place in the world.
    I put my arms about his neck and kissed him, and he gently patted me on the head and handed me a handkerchief scented with lavender. “There! There!” he said. “There is no cause for tears. This is your home now, and you will find no-one here but those who wish you well.” At least, that is my memory of what he said. Wish , I am quite sure it was.
    He got up presently and stirred the fire, then sat back once again in the easy-chair. I had by then folded my hands upon my lap and quite recovered myself, and Mr Jarvis started to talk to me as naturally and easily as if we were acquaintances of long date. The lookon his face at that moment was the very image of his innate and generous goodness—I saw that expression for the first time in that moment, but for many years now I have seen it every day, and when I close my eyes it is there still.
    “Indeed, Hester,” he began, “I am in hopes that you will play a full part in our little community. I have been told you are a young lady of sense and usefulness; indeed it is obvious to anyone who has been but a quarter of an hour in your society. Some of your fellow boarders are occasionally a little dejected and melancholic—such a thing is quite common and normal, especially when they first come to us—but I feel sure that in such circumstances they could make a friend of you, and benefit immeasurably from being confided to your care.”
    I hardly knew what to reply. “I hope you have not formed too high an opinion of my abilities,” I began. “I am very young and I am afraid I am not clever either. I will do my best, but I am very concerned lest you should expect too much of me and then be disappointed.”
    He waved his hand at this as if all my fears were quite groundless. “I think it very likely that you may prove a good little woman for all of us, my dear,” he smiled. “Remember the little old woman of the nursery rhyme?
Little old woman, and whither so high?
     To sweep the cobwebs out of the sky
    “This house has its own little clusters of cobwebs, Hester, like all such houses. But you will sweep every one out of the sky for us in the course of your time here. I am quite confident of that.”
    And that was how I came to be called Old Woman, and Little Old Woman, and Cobweb, and Mrs Shipton, and Mother Hubbard, andDame Durden, and so many other things of a similar kind that I began almost to think myself the stooped and wizened creature my names seemed to imply.
    I soon adapted so fully to the daily routine, that I could hardly remember any other life, and my years at the cottage with my dear Mama seemed like a far-off golden dream. It was a happy and ordered existence we led, and nothing disturbed the calm serenity of our days. There was a place for everything, and a time for everything, whether reading, or baking, or laundry, or tending to the garden. I have had several different companions during the years I have lived here, but at that time we were four boarders, including myself. There was Amy, and there was Caroline, and there was Augusta. Such pretty names, they all had, or so I thought. Amy was small and slight with huge grey eyes and a timid look, and a tendency to hear noises and take fright at the slightest untoward sound or gesture. I do believe the dear little thing took to me at first sight, and by the end of the week she was following me round like a