Haydn
Haydn: Chapter Two
I left her alone for a moment to find something decent and dry for her. Rummaging through a large trunk with all sorts of trinkets and clothes my late mother and father left me, I found a beige frock, which appeared to be around her size. I slung it over my arm and asked her to wear it.
"You might catch a cold," I told her bluntly.
After putting it on, she sat back down and ravenously devoured a few more scones. She had a rather fair and slim figure, and the dress looked as if it had been made for her. In awe, I stared at her, but not for too long, otherwise it would make her feel awkward and uneasy.
"So...," I started, attempting to break the ice, "Why in the world were you out in the park in such weather?"
She looked at me and shook her head, as if to sad, You wouldn't understand.
"Please, I must know." I insisted, "Tell me."
She remained silent. I sighed and sunk into my leather chair, and got back into my book. I heard her feet shuffle and her dainty hands ruffle against the laced ends of her petticoat. Her head, faced downwards and her back slightly hunched, as if she felt embarrassed about something. Clearing her throat once again, she meekly asked me, her voice almost whisper-like. "Is that the first edition of 'Crow's Rain'?"
"I'm surprised," I replied, closing my novel, the hardcover emitting a soft slamming sound, "You have good eyes for books, Miss Haydn. You even managed to identify it after I had cased it in leather."
She smiled. Finally, I thought, for during the previous moments her face only showed glumness and sorrow. It was great for her to light up a little.
"Miss Haydn," I asked, "Do you like books?"
This instantly brought a little bit of colour back in her cheeks. She exclaimed, "Why yes! My father owns a bookshop and he taught me about every book there is!"
I liked this. She was becoming more talkative and confident. I decided to continue.
"What kind of books do you like?"
"I have read a good many books and I love them all, but my favorite genre are thrillers."
"Thrillers, how unusual for someone like you."
"What do you mean?"
"I expected a young lady like you to be interested in those of romance and such."
"Well you can't judge a book by its cover, can you?"
I chuckled softly. She was an absolutely interesting person to talk to. I decided to head in to my main question.
"Why were you in the park?"
I assumed this would happen. She clammed up once more and looked down miserably.
"Now now, why the harrowing look?"
She looked at me with tearful eyes and said to me, "Would you like to know what really happened?"
Instantly, I said yes, completely compelled and driven solely by my curiosity.
And that curiosity let me hear one of the most tragic stories I had ever heard.
"You might catch a cold," I told her bluntly.
After putting it on, she sat back down and ravenously devoured a few more scones. She had a rather fair and slim figure, and the dress looked as if it had been made for her. In awe, I stared at her, but not for too long, otherwise it would make her feel awkward and uneasy.
"So...," I started, attempting to break the ice, "Why in the world were you out in the park in such weather?"
She looked at me and shook her head, as if to sad, You wouldn't understand.
"Please, I must know." I insisted, "Tell me."
She remained silent. I sighed and sunk into my leather chair, and got back into my book. I heard her feet shuffle and her dainty hands ruffle against the laced ends of her petticoat. Her head, faced downwards and her back slightly hunched, as if she felt embarrassed about something. Clearing her throat once again, she meekly asked me, her voice almost whisper-like. "Is that the first edition of 'Crow's Rain'?"
"I'm surprised," I replied, closing my novel, the hardcover emitting a soft slamming sound, "You have good eyes for books, Miss Haydn. You even managed to identify it after I had cased it in leather."
She smiled. Finally, I thought, for during the previous moments her face only showed glumness and sorrow. It was great for her to light up a little.
"Miss Haydn," I asked, "Do you like books?"
This instantly brought a little bit of colour back in her cheeks. She exclaimed, "Why yes! My father owns a bookshop and he taught me about every book there is!"
I liked this. She was becoming more talkative and confident. I decided to continue.
"What kind of books do you like?"
"I have read a good many books and I love them all, but my favorite genre are thrillers."
"Thrillers, how unusual for someone like you."
"What do you mean?"
"I expected a young lady like you to be interested in those of romance and such."
"Well you can't judge a book by its cover, can you?"
I chuckled softly. She was an absolutely interesting person to talk to. I decided to head in to my main question.
"Why were you in the park?"
I assumed this would happen. She clammed up once more and looked down miserably.
"Now now, why the harrowing look?"
She looked at me with tearful eyes and said to me, "Would you like to know what really happened?"
Instantly, I said yes, completely compelled and driven solely by my curiosity.
And that curiosity let me hear one of the most tragic stories I had ever heard.