The Maidens of Walsingham - стр. 9
"Poor Cassie! She doesn't realise that Christine doesn't have an ounce of sisterly love for her! But it must be so: the Lord is purposely protecting her sick mind from hurt and regret," thought Catherine sadly.
***
Christine, feeling resentful at Catherine's reproach, hastened to get away from home; she sat down under a large, budding oak tree, wrapped herself in her threadbare woollen shawl, and tearfully reflected on her poverty. Walsingham, which two centuries ago had been a large, flourishing and wealthy village, but which had gradually turned into a dying tiny hamlet, bound this vain beauty. Christine felt trapped in the dark stone house of the Glowfords: the clay floor, the cold walls, the cracked frames of the only window – all this pressed on the girl, deprived of joy and peace. At the same time, her life was poisoned by her younger sister: Christine disliked Cassie because she required delicate care, like a rare flower, and was filled with envy that her father loved Cassie more than she did. And Cassie was so beautiful that Christine's heart oozed with the poisonous bile of envy of her sick sister's beauty. The girl was desperate, and her deepest dream was to escape from the dying Walsingham ruins. However, she lacked the courage to dare to take such a bold step.
"'What should I do? I'm withering away here like a plant deprived of water! What of value is there in my life? Beauty? Only I was noticed by the landlord in the church… He looked at me with such admiring eyes! He's so handsome! But how could he be interested in a poor girl? Only in fairy tales! – Christine thought bitterly, and the tears of despair and hopelessness ran down her cheeks again. – Will I ever get out of this dark corner? When will I finally live in my own beautiful home, eating sweets and wearing fancy dresses?"
When darkness fell, Christine returned to the hovel she hated, where a hot supper and her older sister's silent disapproval awaited her. Christine had no appetite, for once again the meal was a bland porridge, which she had long since had enough of. Christine took off her shoes and her casual work dress and left her in a rough undershirt. She lay down on her bunk, facing the wall, and deliberately hid her head under the blanket, ignoring her sisters and father.
– Are you not ill? – Pastor Christine asked puzzled, noticing her daughter's gloomy mood. – Vespers is coming soon, and you need your strength. Eat, my daughter.
– I'm not hungry," she replied briefly, not wanting to talk.
– Then you will not be able to eat the porridge until tomorrow morning. If you don't share the evening meal with us, you'll be hungry – Pastor was concerned about his middle daughter's behaviour: Catherine had informed him earlier that Christine had left home again.
– I don't want any porridge, Dad. I'm not feeling well," Christine lied indifferently. She did not want to go to vespers: her father's sermons on the nobility of poverty had satiated her oppressed soul. She was melancholy and hopeless and longed to be alone.
– No time! You can't miss vespers! – Kate persisted, displeased at her sister's obstinacy.
– I won't go," said Christine quietly but firmly.
– But did St Christ stop preaching when he was afflicted? – said the pastor in an instructive tone.