The Greatest Works of D. H. Lawrence. D. H. Lawrence

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      Chapter 9

       Lettie Comes of Age

       Table of Contents

      Lettie was twenty-one on the day after Christmas. She woke me in the morning with cries of dismay. There was a great fall of snow, multiplying the cold morning light, startling the slow-footed twilight. The lake was black like the open eyes of a corpse; the woods were black like the beard on the face of a corpse. A rabbit bobbed out, and floundered in much consternation; little birds settled into the depth, and rose in a dusty whirr, much terrified at the universal treachery of the earth. The snow was eighteen inches deep, and drifted in places.

      “They will never come!” lamented Lettie, for it was the day of her party.

      “At any rate — Leslie will,” said I.

      “One!” she exclaimed.

      “That one is all, isn’t it?” said I. “And for sure George will come, though I’ve not seen him this fortnight. He’s not been in one night, they say, for a fortnight.”

      “Why not?”

      “I cannot say.”

      Lettie went away to ask Rebecca for the fiftieth time if she thought they would come. At any rate, the extra woman-help came.

      It was not more than ten o’clock when Leslie arrived, ruddy, with shining eyes, laughing like a boy. There was much stamping in the porch, and knocking of leggings with his stick, and crying of Lettie from the kitchen to know who had come, and loud, cheery answers from the porch bidding her come and see. She came, and greeted him with effusion.

      “Ha, my little woman!” he said, kissing her. “I declare you are a woman. Look at yourself in the glass now —”

      She did so —

      “What do you see?” he asked, laughing.

      “You — mighty gay, looking at me.”

      “Ah, but look at yourself. There! I declare you’re more afraid of your own eyes than of mine, aren’t you?”

      “I am,” she said, and he kissed her with rapture.

      “It’s your birthday,” he said.

      “I know,” she replied.

      “So do I. You promised me something.”

      “What?” she asked.

      “Here — see if you like it”— he gave her a little case. She opened it, and instinctively slipped the ring on her finger. He made a movement of pleasure. She looked up, laughing breathlessly at him.

      “Now!” said he, in times of finality.

      “Ah!” she exclaimed in a strange, thrilled voice.

      He caught her in his arms.

      After a while, when they could talk rationally again, she said: “Do you think they will come to my party?”

      “I hope not — By Heaven!”

      “But — oh yes! We have made all preparations.”

      “What does that matter! Ten thousand folks here today —!”

      “Not ten thousand — only five or six. I shall be wild if they can’t come.”

      “You want them?”

      “We have asked them — and everything is ready — and I do want us to have a party one day.”

      “But today — damn it all, Lettie!”

      “But I did want my party today. Don’t you think they’ll come?”

      “They won’t if they’ve any sense!”

      “You might help me —” she pouted.

      “Well, I’ll be-! and you’ve set your mind on having a houseful of people today?”

      “You know how we look forward to it — my party. At any rate — I know Tom Smith will come — and I’m almost sure Emily Saxton will.”

      He bit his moustache angrily, and said at last:

      “Then I suppose I’d better send John round for the lot.”

      “It wouldn’t be much trouble, would it?”

      “No trouble at all.”

      “Do you know,” she said, twisting the ring on her finger, “it makes me feel as if I tied something round my finger to remember by. It somehow remains in my consciousness all the time.”

      “At any rate,” said he, “I have got you.”

      After dinner, when we were alone, Lettie sat at the table, nervously fingering her ring.

      “It is pretty, Mother, isn’t it?” she said a trifle pathetically.

      “Yes, very pretty. I have always liked Leslie,” replied my mother.

      “But it feels so heavy — it fidgets me. I should like to take it off.”

      “You are like me, I never could wear rings. I hated my wedding ring for months.”

      “Did you, Mother?”

      “I longed to take it off and put it away. But after a while I got used to it.”

      “I’m glad this isn’t a wedding ring.”

      “Leslie says it is as good,” said I.

      “Ah well, yes! But still it is different —” She put the jewels round under her finger, and looked at the plain gold band — then she twisted it back quickly, saying:

      “I’m glad it’s not — not yet. I begin to feel a woman, little Mother — I feel grown up today.”

      My mother got up suddenly and went and kissed Lettie fervently.

      “Let me kiss my girl good-bye,” she said, and her voice was muffled with tears. Lettie clung to my mother, and sobbed a few quiet sobs, hidden in her bosom. Then she lifted her face, which was wet with tears, and kissed my mother, murmuring:

      “No, Mother — no — o —!”

      About three o’clock the carriage came with Leslie and Marie. Both Lettie and I were upstairs, and I heard Marie come tripping up to my sister.

      “Oh, Lettie, СКАЧАТЬ