I took the volume of Milton down and sat upon the low window-seat reading it. It was rather dreadful to be immediately confronted with Satan as an orator, for I had never been used to consider him as a personage, but rather as a grim embodiment of evil too horrible to be named aloud. But the rich and sonorous flow of the splendid verse fascinated me and I read on, although I didn't understand much that I read.
My thoughts wandered often to notice that the square of carpet was threadbare, and that I must persuade mother to get a new one; or to gaze out of the window upon the sloping bosom of the downs whereon this house stood lonely—a mark for all the winds of heaven; in the serene solitude the sleepy sheep strayed idly—cropping as they went—white blots upon the yellow pastures. And all the while I was listening for a footstep that I feared yet hoped would come, longing to be away and yet incapable of the determination which should take me from that chance of a possible meeting. But, long as I have taken to tell it, the time that I waited was not ten minutes before a heavy foot made the boards creak in the passage and a hand was on the door-knob. I started up, my cheeks aflame—the volume of Milton on the floor. But when the door opened it was Squire Broderick who stood in the opening. I don't think the red in my face faded, for I was vexed that he should see me there, and I fancied that he looked surprised.
"Oh, do you know if Harrod is at home?" asked he.
"No, he's not," answered I, glancing up at the clean windows; "and I've been putting up fresh curtains meanwhile."
"They look delicious," said the squire, with a little awkward laugh, not quite so hearty as usual. "What care you take of him!"
"Mother is a dreadful fidget, you know," murmured I.
"And at the same time you took a turn at Harrod's library," smiled he, picking up the volume which lay near my foot. "Milton! Rather a heavy order for a child like you, isn't it?"
I flushed up angrily. A child!
"Do you understand it?" asked he.
I struggled for a moment between pride and truthfulness. "No," said I, "not all. Do you?"