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Updated: May 18, 2025
Lessways. Mrs. Grant's pressing duties necessitated her immediate departure. Mrs. Lessways ceremoniously insisted on her leaving by the front door. "I don't know where you'll find another rent-collector that's worth his salt in this town," observed Mrs. Grant, on the doorstep. "I can't think what you'll do, Mrs. Lessways!" "I shall collect my rents myself," was the answer. When Mrs.
"You ought to take shame!" she murmured weakly, yet with certitude. "Why?" said Hilda, feigning simplicity. "What have I said? I didn't begin. You asked me. I can't help what I think." "It's your tone," said Mrs. Lessways grievously. Despite all Hilda's terrible wisdom and sagacity, this remark of the foolish mother's was the truest word spoken in the discussion.
Lessways answered the implied rebuke of Hilda's brusque question. "I shall go and see her to-morrow morning." "But, mother, don't you think you'd better wait?" Mrs. Lessways spoke up resolutely: "I shall go and see Sarah Gailey to-morrow morning, and let that be understood!
Lessways had journeyed twice over the Hillport ridge to Oldcastle, in the odd quest of a book called Maud by "Tennyson the poet laureate"; the book had had to be sent from London; and on her second excursion to Oldcastle Mrs. Lessways had been caught by the rain in the middle of Hillport Marsh. No!
To Edwin it was dramatic; it was even dangerous and threatening. He had never heard a quiet voice so charged with intense emotion. Hilda Lessways had come back to the room, and she stood near the door, her face gleaming in the dusk. She stood like an Amazonian defender of the aged poet. Edwin asked himself, "Can any one be so excited as that about a book?"
Then I should be absolutely free!" "You can!" he said, with dramatic emphasis. "And let me tell you that ten years hence those Lessways Street houses won't be worth what they are now!" "Is that property going down, too?" she asked. "I thought they were building all round there." "So they are," he answered. "But cheap cottages.
Hilda had much to do, for it was of course necessary to shut up the house, and the packing of her trunk had to be finished, and the trunk locked and corded, and a label found; and there was breakfast to cook. Mrs. Lessways would have easily passed a couple of days in preparing the house for closure. Nevertheless, time, instead of flying, lagged.
He could not. He was incapable of fixity of mind. He could not follow the sense of a single stanza. Images of his father and of Hilda Lessways mingled with reveries of the insult he had received and the triumph he had won, and all the confused wonder of the day and evening engaged his thoughts. He dwelt lovingly on the supreme disappointment of his career.
"How do you know? You've never seen your father's will." She spoke in harsh challenge. "No; because you've never let me see it." "You ought to have more confidence in your mother. Your father had. And I'm trustee and executor." Mrs. Lessways was exceedingly jealous of her legal position, whose importance she never forgot nor would consent to minimize.
Lessways, she was shocked, for her project had seemed very beautiful to her, and for the moment she was perfectly convinced that she could collect rents and manage property as well as anyone. She was convinced that her habits were regular, her temper firm and tactful, and her judgment excellent. She was more than shocked; she was wounded. She wept, as she pushed forward Hilda's replenished cup.
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