I had
conjured up the vision of a stout, pleasant, comfort-radiating
woman, assisted by some bright, fresh girl, whose rosy cheeks and
sunburnt hands would help me banish from my mind all clogging
recollections of the town; and hopeful, I pushed back the half-
opened door and entered.
The cottage was furnished with a taste that surprised me, but in
themselves my hosts disappointed me. My bustling, comely housewife
turned out a wizened, blear-eyed dame. All day long she dozed in
her big chair, or crouched with shrivelled hands spread out before
the fire. My dream of winsome maidenhood vanished before the
reality of a weary-looking, sharp-featured woman of between forty
and fifty. Perhaps there had been a time when the listless eyes
had sparkled with roguish merriment, when the shrivelled, tight-
drawn lips had pouted temptingly; but spinsterhood does not sweeten
the juices of a woman, and strong country air, though, like old
ale, it is good when taken occasionally, dulls the brain if lived
upon. A narrow, uninteresting woman I found her, troubled with a
shyness that sat ludicrously upon her age, and that yet failed to
save her from the landlady's customary failing of loquacity
concerning "better days," together with an irritating, if harmless,
affectation of youthfulness.
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