Soon there was a heap of twisted black pages, all that remained of the
file of scented letters, except that Paul had thirty or forty pretty
tickets from the corners of the notepaper--swallows and forget-me-nots
and ivy sprays. And William went to London, to start a new life.
CHAPTER IV
THE YOUNG LIFE OF PAUL
PAUL would be built like his mother, slightly and rather small. His fair
hair went reddish, and then dark brown; his eyes were grey. He was a
pale, quiet child, with eyes that seemed to listen, and with a full,
dropping underlip.
As a rule he seemed old for his years. He was so conscious of what other
people felt, particularly his mother. When she fretted he understood,
and could have no peace. His soul seemed always attentive to her.
As he grew older he became stronger. William was too far removed from
him to accept him as a companion. So the smaller boy belonged at first
almost entirely to Annie. She was a tomboy and a "flybie-skybie", as her
mother called her. But she was intensely fond of her second brother. So
Paul was towed round at the heels of Annie, sharing her game. She raced
wildly at lerky with the other young wild-cats of the Bottoms. And
always Paul flew beside her, living her share of the game, having as
yet no part of his own. He was quiet and not noticeable. But his sister
adored him. He always seemed to care for things if she wanted him to.
She had a big doll of which she was fearfully proud, though not so fond.
So she laid the doll on the sofa, and covered it with an antimacassar,
to sleep. Then she forgot it. Meantime Paul must practise jumping off
the sofa arm. So he jumped crash into the face of the hidden doll.
Annie rushed up, uttered a loud wail, and sat down to weep a dirge. Paul
remained quite still.
"You couldn't tell it was there, mother; you couldn't tell it was
there," he repeated over and over. So long as Annie wept for the doll
he sat helpless with misery. Her grief wore itself out. She forgave
her brother--he was so much upset. But a day or two afterwards she was
shocked.
"Let's make a sacrifice of Arabella," he said. "Let's burn her."
She was horrified, yet rather fascinated. She wanted to see what the boy
would do. He made an altar of bricks, pulled some of the shavings out of
Arabella's body, put the waxen fragments into the hollow face, poured
on a little paraffin, and set the whole thing alight. He watched with
wicked satisfaction the drops of wax melt off the broken forehead of
Arabella, and drop like sweat into the flame. So long as the stupid big
<<BackPagesTo menuForward>>