David Herbert Lawrence

whole outer life, lacking which she would have been poor indeed. She

was not particularly religious by inclination. Perhaps her father's

beautiful prayers put her off. So she neither questioned nor

accepted, but just let be.

She grew up a slim girl, rather distinguished in appearance, with a

slender face, a fine, slightly arched nose, and beautiful grey-blue

eyes over which the lids tilted with a very odd, sardonic tilt. The

sardonic quality was, however, quite in abeyance. She was ladylike,

not vehement at all. In the street her walk had a delicate,

lingering motion, her face looked still. In conversation she had

rather a quick, hurried manner, with intervals of well-bred repose

and attention. Her voice was like her father's, flexible and

curiously attractive.

Sometimes, however, she would have fits of boisterous hilarity, not

quite natural, with a strange note half pathetic, half jeering. Her

father tended to a supercilious, sneering tone. In Vina it came out

in mad bursts of hilarious jeering. This made Miss Frost uneasy. She

would watch the girl's strange face, that could take on a gargoyle

look. She would see the eyes rolling strangely under sardonic

eyelids, and then Miss Frost would feel that never, never had she

known anything so utterly alien and incomprehensible and

unsympathetic as her own beloved Vina. For twenty years the strong,

protective governess reared and tended her lamb, her dove, only to

see the lamb open a wolf's mouth, to hear the dove utter the wild

cackle of a daw or a magpie, a strange sound of derision. At such

times Miss Frost's heart went cold within her. She dared not

realize. And she chid and checked her ward, restored her to the

usual impulsive, affectionate demureness. Then she dismissed the

whole matter. It was just an accidental aberration on the girl's

part from her own true nature. Miss Frost taught Alvina thoroughly

the qualities of her own true nature, and Alvina believed what she

was taught. She remained for twenty years the demure, refined

creature of her governess' desire. But there was an odd, derisive

look at the back of her eyes, a look of old knowledge and

deliberate derision. She herself was unconscious of it. But it was

there. And this it was, perhaps, that scared away the young men.

Alvina reached the age of twenty-three, and it looked as if she were

destined to join the ranks of the old maids, so many of whom found

cold comfort in the Chapel. For she had no suitors. True there were

extraordinarily few young men of her class--for whatever her

condition, she had certain breeding and inherent culture--in

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