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Updated: June 19, 2025
Jim Ratcliffe took her by the shoulders and forced her away from the open door. "Go and put something on," he ordered, "instantly!" There was no resisting the mastery of his tone. She responded to it instinctively, hardly knowing what she did. The ayah's paroxysm of grief had sunk to a low moaning when she re-entered her room. It sounded like a dumb creature in pain.
Some natures would have simply sunk into a nervous state of depression, but Molly had great vitality and natural ambition. In her ideal moments she thought of devoting her life to her mother; and the ayah's words were still a text, "The faithful child will find a way." But in darker hours she defied the world that was against her.
Mary Lennox had heard a great deal about Magic in her Ayah's stories, and she always said that what happened almost at that moment was Magic. One of the nice little gusts of wind rushed down the walk, and it was a stronger one than the rest. It was strong enough to wave the branches of the trees, and it was more than strong enough to sway the trailing sprays of untrimmed ivy hanging from the wall.
Great was my dear Ayah's pride when I was dressed in pink silk, my hair being arranged in ringlets round my head, to be shown off to the company. I was proud of myself, and was wont rather to strut than walk into the room upon my best kid shoes. They were pink, to match my frock, and I was not a little vain of them.
He had cried less, had, she believed, suffered less; and now he lay quite passive in the ayah's arms. Only by the feeble, fluttering breath that came and went so fitfully could she have told that the tiny spark yet lingered in the poor little wasted frame. Major Ralston had told her earlier in the evening that he might go on in this state for days, but she did not think it probable.
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