"Blyton, Enid - St Clare's 04 - The Second Form At St Clare's (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

domineering nature-and now, without it, she telt lost. She was depressed
and unhappy to-night-her mind longed for something to fasten on,
something to love. She thought of her violin at home, and wished with
all her heart that she had brought it with her. It was dark hi the
music-room. Mirabel did not turn on the light, for she was afraid
somebody passing might see her, and she did not want any company just
then. She leaned her arms on a little table and thought. i,o inc.
3JJ"^U1>U fUKM AI bl IXAKE S Her hands touched something-a violin case.
Something in the feel of it stirred her, and suddenly, with hands that
trembled a little, she undid the strap and took out the violin inside.
She put it lovingly under her chin, and groped for the bow. And then the
little dark music-room was full of music, as Mirabel played to herself.
She played to comfort herself, to forget herself, and the notes filled
the little room, and made it beautiful. 'That's better,' said Mirabel at
last. 'That's much better! I didn't know how much I'd missed my music. I
wonder whereabouts the piano is. I'll play that too. Why didn't I think
of this before? ' She groped her way to the piano, and began to finger
the notes gently in the darkness. She played from memory, and chose
melodies that were sad and yearning, to match her own mood. She thought
she was alone, and she put her whole heart into her playing. Then
suddenly she heard a sound in the room beside her, and she stopped at
once, her heart thumping. She heard a stifled sob. ' Who's there? ' said
Mirabel, in a low voice. There was no answer. Someone began softly to
grope her way to the door. Mirabel felt a stir of anger. Who was it
spying on her? Who had come into the room like that? She jumped up and
grabbed wildly at the some one near the door. She caught a blouse sleeve
and held on. ' Who is it?' she said.

' Me-Gladys,' said a voice. ' I was in here alone- when you came in. I
didn't know you were going to play. But you played such beautiful music
I had to stay-and then it got sad, and I cried.' ' You're always
crying,' said Mirabel, impatiently. o What's the matter? ' ' I shan't
tell you,' said Gladys. ' You'll only tell the others, and they'd laugh.
They call me Misery-girl, I know. It's hateful. They'd be Misery-girls
too if they were like me.' ' Like you-why, what's the matter with you? '
asked Mirabel, her curiosity aroused. ' Look here-tell me. I shan't jeer
at you or anything.' 'Well, don't turn on the light then,' said Gladys.
You'll think I'm very feeble, so I'd rather tell you in the dark.' ' You
are a queer fish,' said Mirabel. ' Come on- what's the matter?' ' It's
my mother,' said Gladys. ' She's awfully ill-in hospital-and I don't
know if she'll get better. I simply can't tell you how much I love her,
and how much I miss her. I haven't a father, or brothers or sisters-
only my mother. I've never been away from her even for a night till now.
I know it sounds silly to you- you'll call me babyish and mother's
girl-and so I am, I suppose. But you see, Mother and I haven't had any
one but each other-and I'm so terribly, terribly homesick, and want to
be with Mother so much. . . .' Gladys burst into sobs again, and cried
so miserably that Mirabel forgot her own troubles for the moment and put
her arm awkwardly round the girl. She saw how little courage Gladys had
got-she saw how little she tried to face what had come to her-and she