Kilmeny of the Orchard

e, he taught the Lindsay district school diligently and painstakingly; solved problems; argued on theology with Robert Williamson; called at the homes of h

ent in an old orchard, grassy and overgrown, where the minutes seemed to lag fo

y went wandering in the fair fields of old romance; together they read many books and talked of many things; and, wh

iful as he remembered her; and then when they met she seemed even more so. He learned to watch for the undisguised light of welcome that always leaped into her eyes at the so

old Gordon stock might be, but it had at least this one offshoot of perfect grace and symmetry. Her mind and heart, utterly unspoiled of the w

y capricious. Sometimes innocent mischief glimmered out in the unfathomable deeps of her blue eyes. Sarcasm, even, was not unknown to her. Now a

best and truest, and rejecting the false and spurious and weak with an unfailing intuition at which Eric ma

ve. An expression would leap into her laughing face, a subtle meaning reveal itsel

far down in her eyes and flowed outward to her face lik

affection. She rarely spoke of her mother. Eric came somehow to understand, less from what she said than from what she did not say, that Kilmeny, thou

or she was marvellously quick to catch and interpret every fleeting change of expression in his voice and face-

asked him

people like you

them," said

Then she gave her head a

know much of the world, but I do not thi

ed to the old orchard a little limp, worn volume that held a love story. It was the first thing of the kind he had ever read to her, for in t

ds clasped over her knee and her eyes cast down. It was not a long story; an

it, Kilmeny

he took her s

eling, was it not? But I did not understand the book very well, you see. It is about love and I do not know anything about love. Mother told me once that love is a curse, and that I must pray that it would ne

your mother believed it was that which had entered her life and ruined it; and so she made the mistake. There

ion which was sometimes a little terrible. She asked the question simply and without embarrassment. She knew

love whom he hopes to meet some day-'the ideal woman of a young man's dr

an would be beautiful, li

ur on upper earth. Some day I shall waken from a supposed hour's lingering here and find myself an old man with white hair and ragged coat, as in that fairy tale we read the other night. Will you let me give you this book? I should never commit the sacrilege of reading it in any other place than this. It is an old book, Kilmeny. A new book, savouring of the shop and market-place, however beautiful it might be, would not do for you. This was one of my mother's books. She read it

to his surprise, she shook her hea

e the book, Ki

wrote slowly, unlike h

t you. But I would rather not take the book. I do not want to read it again. It is about love, and there

hen a glimpse of her half averted face sobered him. On it was a hurt, bitter look, such as he remem

ishment, "you don't really

ut looking at him

k that is very foolish of me, but it is true. That was why I did not come back to the orchard for such a long time, even after I had got over my fright. I hated to think that YOU would think me ugly. And that is why I do not want to go out into the world an

ayed in her eyes, he could not help feeling amused over the absurd idea

ourself ugly when you look in

it in a book. Then I asked Aunt Janet and she said mother had broken all the looking glasses in the house when I was a baby.

ot let Kilmeny see him laughing. A certain little whimsical wish took possession of him and he did not has

nk you are u

e looked away and would not speak, so I knew what he thought about it, too. Do not let us speak of this again. It makes me feel sorry and spoils everything. I f

e day yet-after I have shown you something I want you to see.

u do like me, even though I am so ugly, don't you? Y

ere was in his voice a tender note of which he was unconscious. Kilmeny w

rough the dim resinous spruce wood her music

teen who has never looked in a mirror! I wonder if there is another such in any civilized country in the world. What could have possessed her mother to tell her such

talkative at first; but at the first hint concerning the Gordons which Eric threw out skilfully his face and manner changed. He looked secretive and suspicious, almost sinister. A sullen look crept into his