[{"node":{"title":"Hanna071","Collections":"Part One","Contributor":"Linen Hall Library","Coverage":"1951","Creator":"Linen Hall Library","Date":"Thursday, April 7, 2016","Format":"TIFF","Identifier":"Hanna071","Item Description":"Manuscript","Keywords":"Cheek, Gifts","Language":"English","Path":"https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/hanna071","Publisher":"Linen Hall Library","Relation":"Linen Hall Library","Rights":"Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA","Scanned image":{"src":"https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/sites/default/files/Hanna071_0.jpg","alt":""},"Source":"LHL Archive","Transcript":"66\n\nfloor was swept and the fire newly-made, little pouts of smoke rising\nbetween the turves. It was all as she had left it. the small window\nsunk in the wall, the warped glass of which made the briar stem outside\nnow thin as a rush now swollen as a bough, The scrubbed table still\nstood there, scooped out by the hundreds of ear them ware dishes it\nhad borne. The spotted dogs on the mantelshelf still stared disdainfully\noyer her head. The earth floor glowed warmly as a flame lapped up.\n\nHer mother stood on the threshold of the loner room. Martha\nfelt a thrill of triumph run through her as she saw her daughter stand\nuncertainly between the doorway and the fire. Jut the mother was old,\nfull of painfully-gazed wisdom and the scrupulous regard for the dignity\nof others inherent in her race. ;he came across with her little tripping\nstep and laying her hands on her daughter\u2019s shoulders, pressed her lips\nto the girl's wind-cool cheek. Sarah felt the dried lips quiver as they\ntouched her, and the doubt that had held her rigid and watchful melted\naway in the embrace. She clasped the other woman in her arms and they\nstood locked in bliss, mother and daughter once more.\n\nThe fire was broken up, the kettle lowered and tea brewed. They\nsat one on each side of the hearth, with their cups in their hands,\ntalking. They talked about the hard winter, and how Martha's turf\nstock was going down, and the bog in winter flood. Sarah described how\nher boiling of winter apples had jellied. \u201cLook\u201d she said, and taking\na pot from the basket she had brought held it out to her mother. It was\na delicate moment, the first interchange of gifts. Martha accepted it\ncritically, held it against the light, shook it, praised its colour and\nfirmness. Then she rose and lifted the lid of the earthenware crock\n","Type":"Text"}}]