• Home
  • Catalog
  • Contacts




    WINGS OF ICARUS

    BEING

    THE LIFE OF ONE EMILIA FLETCHER


    AS REVEALED BY HERSELF IN

    I. THIRTY-FIVE LETTERS

    WRITTEN TO CONSTANCE NORRIS BETWEEN JULY 18TH, 188-,
    AND MARCH 26TH OF THE FOLLOWING YEAR

    II. A FRAGMENTARY JOURNAL

    III. A POSTSCRIPT


    BY


    LAURENCE ALMA TADEMA



    New York

    MACMILLAN AND COMPANY

    AND LONDON

    1894




    THE WINGS OF ICARUS.




    THE LETTERS.




    LETTER I.


    FLETCHER'S HALL, GRAYSMILL,
    July 18th.

    _Dear and Beloved Constance_,--What shall I say to you? Here I sit,
    in a strange room, in a strange land,--and my life lies behind me.
    It is close upon midnight, and very dark. I can see nothing out of
    window. The air is hot and heavy, the moths flutter round my candle;
    I cannot save them all. I am trying to write you a letter--do you
    understand? Oh, but I have no thoughts, only visions! Three there
    are that rise before me, sometimes separately, sometimes all
    together.

    I see you, Mrs. Norris. We are standing on the platform, side by
    side; people leaning out of window in my night-gown, watching the
    mists rise in the valley. The air is very sweet here in England; I
    see oceans of trees, great stretches of heath and meadow. Surely,
    surely one ought to be happy in this beautiful world! I shall dress
    quickly and go out. This letter, such as it is, shall go to you by
    the first post, and to-night I shall write again, when I myself know
    something of my surroundings. Good-bye then for the present, my best
    and dearest.

    EMILIA.




    LETTER II.


    July 19.

    It is just half-past ten, my Constance; the two old ladies have gone
    to bed. I am getting on very well, on the whole, although I had the
    misfortune to keep them waiting three-quarters of an hour for
    breakfast this morning. It was so beautiful out of doors, and I was
    so happy roaming in field and wood,--happy with the happiness
    sunshine can lay atop of the greatest sorrow,--that I stayed out
    till nearly ten o'clock. I had taken some milk and bread in the
    kitchen before starting, not realising that breakfast here is a
    solemn meal. Poor old souls! they were too polite to begin without
    me, and I found them positively drooping with hunger.

    All the rancour that I had harboured in my heart this many a year
    against my father's stepmother has vanished into thin air. One
    glance at the old lady's delicate weak face, at her diffident eyes
    and nervous fingers, dispelled once and forever any preconceived
    idea that she might have helped him in his ardent difficult boyhood,
    stood between him and his father in his day of disgrace. Had she
    been a woman of mettle, I could never have forgiven her the neutral
    part she played; but she stands there cleared by her very impotence.

    I think she was nervous of meeting me, last night; she said
    something confused about my poor papa, about her husband's severity,
    adding that she was sorry not to have known my mamma, but supposed I
    must be like her, as I looked quite the foreigner with my black
    eyes. Her whole manner towards me is almost painful in its humility;
    this morning she begged me to let her live with me, and die in this
    house, saying she did not care to go and live with her son; upon
    which I of course assured her

    [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23][24][25][26][27][28][29][30][31][32][33][34][35][36][37][38][39][40][41][42][43][44][45][46][47][48][49][50][51][52][53][54][55][Next]