He gave her the "pretty things," whole quantities of them, fine linen

to be made up into underwear, soft white and colored silks and

crêpes, which Joan, remembering the few lessons in dressmaking she

had had from Maud Upper and with some advice from Prosper, made up not

too awkwardly, accepting the mystery of them as one of Prosper's

magic-makings. And, in the meantime, her education went on. Prosper

read aloud to her, gave her books to read to herself, questioned her,

tutored her, scolded her so fiercely sometimes that Joan would mount

scarlet cheeks and open angry eyes. One day she fairly flung her book

from her and ran out of the room, stamping her feet and shedding

tears. But back she came presently for more, thirsting for knowledge,

eager to meet her trainer on more equal grounds, to be able to answer

him to some purpose, to contradict him, to stagger ever so slightly

the self-assurance of his superiority.

And Prosper enjoyed the training of his captive leopardess, though he

sometimes all but melted over the pathos of her and had much ado to

keep his hands from her unconscious young beauty.

"You're so changed, Joan," he said one day abruptly. "You've grown as

thin as a reed, child; I can see every bone, and your eyes--don't you

ever shut them any more?"

Joan, prone on the skin before the fire, elbows on the fur, hands to

her temples, face bent over a book, looked up impatiently.

"I'd not be talkin' now if I was you, Mr. Gael. You had ought to be

writin' an' I'm readin'. I can't talk an' read; seems when I do a

thing I just hed to do it!"

Prosper laughed and returned chidden to his task, but he couldn't help

watching her, lying there in her blue frock across his floor, like a

tall, thin Magdalene, all her rich hair fallen wildly about her face.

She was such a child, such a child!




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024