The Emancipated | Page 4

the dress,
however, was severely plain, and its grey coldness, which would well
have harmonized with an English sky in this month of November,
looked alien in the southern sunlight. There was no mistaking her
nationality; the absorption, the troubled earnestness with which she
bent over her writing, were peculiar to a cast of features such as can be
found only in our familiar island; a physiognomy not quite pure in
outline, vigorous in general effect and in detail delicate; a proud young
face, full of character and capacity, beautiful in chaste control.
Sorrowful it was not, but its paleness and thinness expressed something
more than imperfect health of body; the blue-grey eyes, when they
wandered for a moment in an effort of recollection, had a look of
weariness, even of ennui; the lips moved as if in nervous impatience
until she had found the phrase or the thought for which her pen waited.
Save for these intervals, she wrote with quick decision, in a large clear
hand, never underlining, but frequently supplying the emphasis of
heavy stroke in her penning of a word. At the end of her letters came a
signature excellent in individuality: "Miriam Baske."
The furniture of her room was modern, and of the kind demanded by
wealthy forestieri in the lodgings they condescend to occupy. On the
variegated tiles of the floor were strewn rugs and carpets; the drapery
was bright, without much reference to taste in the ordering of hues; a
handsome stove served at present to support leafy plants, a row of
which also stood on the balcony before the window. Round the ceiling
ran a painted border of foliage and flowers. The chief ornament of the
walls was a large and indifferent copy of Raphael's "St. Cecilia;" there
were, too, several gouache drawings of local scenery: a fiery
night-view of Vesuvius, a panorama of the Bay, and a very blue Blue
Grotto. The whole was blithe, sunny, Neapolitan; sufficiently unlike a
sitting-room in Redheck House, Bartles, Lancashire, which Mrs. Baske
had in her mind as she wrote.
A few English books lay here and there, volumes of unattractive
binding, and presenting titles little suggestive of a holiday in Campania;

works which it would be misleading to call theological; the feeblest
modern echoes of fierce old Puritans, half shame-faced modifications
of logic which, at all events, was wont to conceal no consequence of its
savage premises. More noticeable were some architectural plans
unrolled upon a settee; the uppermost represented the elevation of a
building designed for religious purposes, painfully recognizable by all
who know the conventicles of sectarian England. On the blank space
beneath the drawing were a few comments, lightly pencilled.
Having finished and addressed some half a dozen brief letters, Mrs.
Baske brooded for several minutes before she began to write on the
next sheet of paper. It was intended for her sister-in-law, a lady of
middle age, who shared in the occupancy of Redheck House. At length
she penned the introductory formula, but again became absent, and sat
gazing at the branches of a pine-tree which stood in strong relief
against cloudless blue. A sigh, an impatient gesture, and she went on
with her task.
"It is very kind of you to be so active in attending to the things which
you know I have at heart. You say I shall find everything as I could
wish it on my return, but you cannot think what a stranger to Bartles I
already feel. It will soon be six months Since I lived my real life there;
during my illness I might as well have been absent, then came those
weeks in the Isle of Wight, and now this exile. I feel it as exile, bitterly.
To be sure Naples is beautiful, but it does not interest me. You need not
envy me the bright sky, for it gives me no pleasure. There is so much to
pain and sadden; so much that makes me angry. On Sunday I was
miserable. The Spences are as kind as any one could be, but--I won't
write about it; no doubt you understand me.
"What do you think ought to be done about Mrs. Ackworth and her
daughter? It is shameful, after all they have received from me. Will you
tell them that I am gravely displeased to hear of their absenting
themselves from chapel. I have a very good mind to write to Mr.
Higginson and beg him to suspend the girl from his employment until
she becomes regular in her attendance at worship. Perhaps that would
seem malicious, but she and her mother ought to be punished in some
way. Speak to them very sternly.
"I do not understand how young Brooks has dared to tell you I
promised him work in the