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I could both see them and hear them talk before I entered, and looked and listened in consequence; being moved thereto by a mingled sense of curiousity and envy, that grew as I lingered.”Contrary!” said a voice as sweet as a silver bell. “That for the third time, you dunce! I’m not going to tell you again. Recollect, or I’ll pull your hair!” “Contrary, then,” answered another, in deep but softened tones. “And now, kiss me, for minding so well.” “No, read it over first correctly, without a single mistake.” The male speaker began to read: he was a young man, respectably dressed and seated at a table, having a book before him. His handsome features glowed with pleasure, and his eyes kept impatiently wandering from the page to a small white hand over his shoulder, which recalled him by a smart slap on the cheek, whenever its owner detected such signs of inattention. Its owner stood behind; her light, shining ringlets blending, at intervals, with his brown locks, as she bent to superintend his studies; and her face- it was lucky he could not see her face, or he would never have been so steady. I could; and I bit my lip in spite, at having thrown away the chance I might have had of doing something besides staring at its smiting beauty. The task was done, not free from further blunders; but the pupil claimed a reward, and received at least five kisses; which, however, he generously returned.
-from Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte
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i love that book. adore it. really i do. the first time i read it, i hated it. almost all of it. ’till that page. that little paragraph. it changed my whole opinion of that book. it made me love that book. and now, i read that book over and over and over, and i find myself liking it more and more and more. it’s ridiculous how one can make their mind up about something and be so sure and then you can change everything you thought about it. i do that quite often. O little contrary me.
i wore my little grey dress today. i watched Miss Tandy paint props. i re-wrote a puppet show. i wished for cornflower blue rain boots. i talked to my Lala. i got a darling present in the mail from Miss Kirstie Rae. (thank you sweetheart. i love it.) i thought of groomsmen and their a.m.a.z.i.n.g socks for little stories. i wrote a bit about ‘Guy’ and shoelaces. i had a short nap. and i was happy.
now i shall go to sleep and wish for the B.B.C version of Wuthering Heights.
tomorrow will be lovely. i should really bake some bread, because we have none. i suppose i will… O the joy i will feel of being in an apron.
-Bella
