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Hilda Lessways 
 
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hilda Lessways, by Arnold Bennett 
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Title: Hilda Lessways 
Author: Arnold Bennett 
Release Date: January 9, 2004 [EBook #10658] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILDA 
LESSWAYS *** 
 
Produced by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy and PG Distributed 
Proofreaders 
 
HILDA LESSWAYS 
BY ARNOLD BENNETT
1911 
 
CONTENTS 
BOOK I HER START IN LIFE 
I AN EVENT IN MR. SKELLORN'S LIFE II THE END OF THE 
SCENE III MR. CANNON IV DOMESTICITY INVADED V MRS. 
LESSWAYS' SHREWDNESS VI VICTOR HUGO AND ISAAC 
PITMAN VII THE EDITORIAL SECRETARY VIII JANET 
ORGREAVE IX IN THE STREET X MISS GAILEY IN 
DECLENSION XI DISILLUSION XII THE TELEGRAM XIII 
HILDA'S WORLD XIV TO LONDON 
BOOK II HER RECOVERY 
I SIN II THE LITTLE ROOM III JOURNEY TO BLEAKRIDGE IV 
WITH THE ORGREAVES V EDWIN CLAYHANGER VI IN THE 
GARDEN VII THE NEXT MEETING 
BOOK III HER BURDEN 
I HILDA INDISPENSABLE II SARAH'S BENEFACTOR III AT 
BRIGHTON IV THE SEA 
BOOK IV HER FALL 
I THE GOING CONCERN II THE UNKNOWN ADVENTURE III 
FLORRIE AGAIN 
BOOK V HER DELIVERANCE 
I LOUISA UNCONTROLLED II SOME SECRET HISTORY 
BOOK VI HER PUNISHMENT 
I EVENING AT BLEAKRIDGE II A RENDEZVOUS III AT THE
WORKS IV THE CALL FROM BRIGHTON V THURSDAY 
AFTERNOON VI MISCHANCE 
* * * * * 
 
BOOK I HER START IN LIFE 
CHAPTER I 
AN EVENT IN MR. SKELLORN'S LIFE 
I 
The Lessways household, consisting of Hilda and her widowed mother, 
was temporarily without a servant. Hilda hated domestic work, and 
because she hated it she often did it passionately and thoroughly. That 
afternoon, as she emerged from the kitchen, her dark, defiant face was 
full of grim satisfaction in the fact that she had left a kitchen polished 
and irreproachable, a kitchen without the slightest indication that it ever 
had been or ever would be used for preparing human nature's daily food; 
a show kitchen. Even the apron which she had worn was hung in 
concealment behind the scullery door. The lobby clock, which stood 
over six feet high and had to be wound up every night by hauling on a 
rope, was noisily getting ready to strike two. But for Mrs. Lessways' 
disorderly and undesired assistance, Hilda's task might have been 
finished a quarter of an hour earlier. She passed quietly up the stairs. 
When she was near the top, her mother's voice, at once querulous and 
amiable, came from the sitting-room: 
"Where are you going to?" 
There was a pause, dramatic for both of them, and in that minute pause 
the very life of the house seemed for an instant to be suspended, and 
then the waves of the hostile love that united these two women resumed 
their beating, and Hilda's lips hardened. 
"Upstairs," she answered callously.
No reply from the sitting-room! 
At two o'clock on the last Wednesday of every month, old Mr. Skellorn, 
employed by Mrs. Lessways to collect her cottage-rents, called with a 
statement of account, and cash in a linen bag. He was now due. During 
his previous visit Hilda had sought to instil some common sense into 
her mother on the subject of repairs, and there had ensued an altercation 
which had never been settled. 
"If I stayed down, she wouldn't like it," Hilda complained fiercely 
within herself, "and if I keep away she doesn't like that either! That's 
mother all over!" 
She went to her bedroom. And into the soft, controlled shutting of the 
door she put more exasperated vehemence than would have sufficed to 
bang it off its hinges. 
II 
At this date, late October in 1878, Hilda was within a few weeks of 
twenty-one. She was a woman, but she could not realize that she was a 
woman. She remembered that when she first went to school, at the age 
of eight, an assistant teacher aged nineteen had seemed to her to be 
unquestionably and absolutely a woman, had seemed to belong 
definitely to a previous generation. The years had passed, and Hilda 
was now older than that mature woman was then; and yet she could not 
feel adult, though her childhood gleamed dimly afar off, and though the 
intervening expanse of ten years stretched out like a hundred years, like 
eternity. She was in trouble; the trouble grew daily more and more 
tragic; and the trouble was that she wanted she knew not what. If her 
mother had said to her squarely, "Tell me    
    
		
	
	
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