DarqueDante/test2 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 74
less than forty-five. From their conversation I have gathered that
they have been married about seven years, that he was a widower, and
that his only child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone
to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why
she had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her
stepmother. As the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I
can quite imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with
her father's young wife.

"Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in
feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was
a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted
both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes
wandered continually from one to the other, noting every little want
and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her also in his
bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a happy
couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would
often be lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face.
More than once I have surprised her in tears. I have thought
sometimes that it was the disposition of her child which weighed upon
her mind, for I have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured
a little creature. He is small for his age, with a head which is
quite disproportionately large. His whole life appears to be spent in
an alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of
sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be
his one idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in
planning the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would
rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he has
little to do with my story."

"I am glad of all details," remarked my friend, "whether they seem to
you to be relevant or not."

"I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant
thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance
and conduct of the servants. There are only two, a man and his wife.
Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled
hair and whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink. Twice since I have
been with them he has been quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed
to take no notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong woman
with a sour face, as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable.
They are a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my
time in the nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in
one corner of the building.

"For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very
quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and
whispered something to her husband.

"'Oh, yes,' said he, turning to me, 'we are very much obliged to you,
Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your
hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from
your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will
become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and
if you would be so good as to put it on we should both be extremely
obliged.'

"The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of
blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore
unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not have been
a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs.
Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it, which seemed quite
exaggerated in its vehemence. They were waiting for me in the
drawing-room, which is a very large room, stretching along the entire
front of the house, with three long windows reaching down to the
floor. A chair had been placed close to the central window, with its
back turned towards it. In this I was asked to sit, and then Mr.
Rucastle, walking up and down on the other side of the room, began to
tell me a series of the funniest stories that I have ever listened
to. You cannot imagine how comical he was, and I laughed until I was
quite weary. Mrs. Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of
humour, never so much as smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap,
and a sad, anxious look upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr.
Rucastle suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the duties of
the day, and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward in
the nursery.

"Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly
similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the
window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny stories of
which my employer had an immense répertoire, and which he told
inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and moving my
chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not fall upon the
page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for about ten
minutes, beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then suddenly, in
the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to cease and to change my
dress.

"You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to what
the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly be. They
were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the
window, so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was
going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be impossible, but I
soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy
thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of the glass in my
handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I
put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able with a little
management to see all that there was behind me. I confess that I was
disappointed. There was nothing. At least that was my first
impression. At the second glance, however, I perceived that there was

less than forty-five. From their conversation I have gathered that

they have been married about seven years, that he was a widower, and

that his only child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone

to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why

she had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her

stepmother. As the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I

can quite imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with

her father's young wife.

"Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in

feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was

a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted

both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes

wandered continually from one to the other, noting every little want

and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her also in his

bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a happy

couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would

often be lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face.

More than once I have surprised her in tears. I have thought

sometimes that it was the disposition of her child which weighed upon

her mind, for I have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured

a little creature. He is small for his age, with a head which is

quite disproportionately large. His whole life appears to be spent in

an alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of

sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be

his one idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in

planning the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would

rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he has

little to do with my story."

"I am glad of all details," remarked my friend, "whether they seem to

you to be relevant or not."

"I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant

thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance

and conduct of the servants. There are only two, a man and his wife.

Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled

hair and whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink. Twice since I have

been with them he has been quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed

to take no notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong woman

with a sour face, as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable.

They are a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my

time in the nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in

one corner of the building.

"For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very

quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and

whispered something to her husband.

"'Oh, yes,' said he, turning to me, 'we are very much obliged to you,

Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your

hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from

your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will

become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and

if you would be so good as to put it on we should both be extremely

obliged.'

"The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of

blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore

unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not have been

a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs.

Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it, which seemed quite

exaggerated in its vehemence. They were waiting for me in the

drawing-room, which is a very large room, stretching along the entire

front of the house, with three long windows reaching down to the

floor. A chair had been placed close to the central window, with its

back turned towards it. In this I was asked to sit, and then Mr.

Rucastle, walking up and down on the other side of the room, began to

tell me a series of the funniest stories that I have ever listened

to. You cannot imagine how comical he was, and I laughed until I was

quite weary. Mrs. Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of

humour, never so much as smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap,

and a sad, anxious look upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr.

Rucastle suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the duties of

the day, and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward in

the nursery.

"Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly

similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the

window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny stories of

which my employer had an immense répertoire, and which he told

inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and moving my

chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not fall upon the

page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for about ten

minutes, beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then suddenly, in

the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to cease and to change my

dress.

"You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to what

the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly be. They

were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the

window, so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was

going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be impossible, but I

soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy

thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of the glass in my

handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I

put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able with a little

management to see all that there was behind me. I confess that I was

disappointed. There was nothing. At least that was my first

impression. At the second glance, however, I perceived that there was