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What could she do, but offer an unreasoning opposition? Aunt Merce cried herself sick, fond as she was of Alice, and Temperance declared that if she hadn't married a widower herself, she would put in an oar. Anyhow, she hadn't married a man with grown-up daughters. "What ails Fanny?" she asked me the next day. "She looks like a froze pullet." "Where is she now?" "Making the beds."
In the morning he disappeared, and when he returned had an emerald ring, which he begged me to wear, and tried to put it on my finger, where he had seen the diamond. I put it back in its box, thanking him, and saying it must be stored with the farewell needlebooks and pincushions. "Shall we have some last words now?" Aunt Merce slipped out, with an affectation of not having heard him.
Io son fatta da Dio, sua merce, tale, Che la vostra miseria non mi tange Ne fiamma d' esto incendio non m' assale. In the tragic hour the soul is thus vouchsafed a deeper vision, discerns a remoter, serener, mightier ideal which henceforth it pursues unalterably, undeviatingly, as if swept on by a law of Nature itself.
Cramcapon, quoth the friar, I understand the customs and ceremonies which are used there much better than all the formal stuff, antique postures, and nonsensical fiddle-faddle that must be used with those women, magni magna, shittencumshita, cringes, grimaces, scrapes, bows, and congees; double honours this way, triple salutes that way, the embrace, the grasp, the squeeze, the hug, the leer, the smack, baso las manos de vostra merce, de vostra maesta.
"No agreeable ones, I fancy," I answered. "All the relations have had their turn for this year," remarked Aunt Merce. But she was mistaken; an old lady came soon after this to spend the winter. She lived but four miles from Surrey, but brought with her all her clothes, and a large green parrot, which her son had brought from foreign parts.
"Tributiamo percio sincera lode al nostro caro uffiziale postale Sig. Rocca, e ci auguriamo che egli continui ancora al miglioramento deli' uffizio istesso, e merce 1' opera sua costante ed indefessa siamo sicuri che 1' uffizio postale di Cetraro assurgera fra non molto ad un' importanza maggiore di quella che attualmente."
We saw mother at the table, a book in her hand. She was finishing a chapter in "The Hour and the Man." Aunt Merce stood eyeing the dishes with the aspect of a judge. As father took his seat, near Veronica, Fanny, according to habit, stood behind it. With the most degagé air, Ben suffered nothing to escape him, and I never forgot the picture of that moment.
One side of the room where the fireplace was set was paneled in wood; its fire had burned down in the shining Franklin stove, and broken brands were standing upright. The charred backlog still smoldered, its sap hissed and bubbled at each end. Aunt Merce rummaged her pocket for flagroot; mother resumed her paper. "May I put on, for a little while, my new slippers?"
He firmly resisted me. Once a month, I should go home and spend a Sunday, if I chose, and he would come to Barmouth every week. My agitation and despair clouded his face for a moment, then it cleared, and pinching my chin, he said, "Why don't you look like your mother?" "But she is like her mother," said Aunt Merce. "Well, Cassy, good-by"; and he gave me a kiss with cruel nonchalance.
Where did I belong? he asked. I was still "possessed," Aunt Merce said, and mother called me "lawless." "What upon earth are you coming to?" asked Temperance. "You are sowing your wild oats with a vengeance." "Locke Morgeson's daughter can do anything," commented the villagers. In consequence of the unlimited power accorded me I was unpopular.
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