Margaret Maliphant

								

Two high-backed wooden chairs, with delicate spindle-rails, highly
polished, and very elegant, stood close to the blaze. There was also
a pretty inlaid satinwood table in the far corner that had belonged to
mother's grandfather, and had been left to her; but the rest of the
furniture was plain dark oak, and had been in the house ever since
the Maliphants had owned it. It was a sweet, cosey room, and if the
windows, being old-fashioned and somewhat small, did not admit all the
sunlight they might, they also did not let in the wind, of which there
was plenty, for the parlor faced towards the sea, and the gales in
winter were sometimes terrific.
We had another best-parlor, looking on the road, where were the piano
and the upholstered furniture, covered in brown holland on common days;
but though the pale yellow tabaret chairs and curtains looked very
pretty when they were all uncovered, we none of us ever felt quite
comfortable excepting in the big dwelling-room that looked over the
marsh. How well I remember it that day when we were all there together!
Father sat by the fire with his boots and gaiters still on. He had been
out for the first time after a severe attack of his complaint, and he
was very irritable. I thought Joyce might have helped him off with the
heavy things, but no doubt he had refused; any offer of help was almost
an insult to him. They used to say I took after father in that. He
was bending over the fire that day, stretching out his fingers to the
blaze--a powerful figure still, though somewhat worn with hard work and
the sufferings which he never allowed to gain the upper-hand. But his
back was not bent--an out-door life, whatever other marks it may leave,
spares that one; his head was erect still--a remarkable head--the gray
hair, thick and strong, sticking up in obstinate little tufts without
any attempt at order or smoothness. It was not beautiful hair, for the
tufts were quite straight, but at least it was very characteristic; I
have never seen any quite like it. It was in keeping with the bushy
eyebrows that had just the same defiant expression as the tufts of
hair. The brow was high and prominent, the eyes keen and quick to
change, the jaw heavy and somewhat sullen. At first sight it might not
have been called a lovable face; it might rather have been called a
stern, even an unbending one; but that it was really lovable is proved
by the sure love and confidence with which it always inspired little
children. They came to father naturally as they would have gone to the
tenderest woman, and smiled in his face as though certain beforehand
of the smile that would answer theirs in return. But father's face was
sullen sometimes to a grown-up person. It looked very sullen as he sat
by the fire that day. I knew in a moment that something had ruffled
him.
Mother seemed to be doing her best, however, to make up for the ill
reception which her husband was giving his guest; and mother's best