We were never in a hurry to fall in love, because we loved each other all the time.
The town library in Oxford has a perpetual hush, even when a few visitors are inside. Mabel never scolded anyone; as soon as you stepped into the hall, where towering shelves of books loomed, people paused, glanced around, and then approached her calmly.
Good morning, they always said politely, before asking for the title they needed.
Good morning, she replied with a smile, listening attentively to each patron.
Mabel was naturally warm and courteous, and the library felt like it was made just for her. Sometimes she thought, Its a blessing that fate led me down this path. I cant imagine a job that would give me such quiet joy. Most visitors are courteous, too.
Of course, there were occasional rushesreaders demanding a book in a huff, tapping their feet while she fetched the volume and filled out the borrowing card. Yet she remained patient; she never allowed herself to get irritated.
Shed loved reading since she was a child, so choosing this profession was never a question. Books were her element, and among them she felt confident, wellread, and endlessly curious.
While her friends chased dates, juggled work, moved houses, argued and made up, or welcomed children, Mabel simply lived a quiet, measured life.
She spoke with a soft, steady voice, habitually straightened her spectacles when something was amiss, and her gray eyes held a gentle warmth. Her lightcolored hair was always tied back in a bun, and she dressed neatly, almost formally.
Mabel was twentyseven, and on the second day after her birthday a handsome young man in spectacles walked into the library. She glanced at him and thought, A pleasant fellow, probably around thirty.
She realized she hadnt really taken note of the men who came here before, and suddenly found herself paying attention.
Good afternoon, the new visitor said quietly and politely.
Good afternoon, Mabel answered in kind.
Im looking for a book, he hesitated, as if recalling the authors name, then said confidently, Do you have The Hidden Orchard? I hope you do, he added, sweeping his gaze over the towering shelves and adjusting his glasses.
Youll need to wait a few minutes; its on the top row, but Ill fetch it, Mabel said and slipped away. He paced the reading room, eyes flicking from shelf to shelf.
His name was Nigel, a timid engineer in the citys planning department, constantly sifting through old blueprints and drafting new ones. When the librarian returned with the volume, he smiled warmly.
Mabel settled at the desk to fill out the borrowing card and learned his surnameNigel Hargreaves. He signed his name, but lingered by the desk, looking uncertain.
Thank you, he finally managed.
Youre welcome, she replied.
Something shifted in that quiet room. They stared at each other without speaking; he seemed unable to leave, and she found herself speechless. Time slipped by unnoticed until Mabel broke the silence.
Mr. Hargreaves, do you need anything else?
Um actually no, I think thats all, he stammered, then steadied himself. You know my name, but may I ask yours?
Mabel, she said modestly.
Mabel a lovely name, very English. Ive always liked it, he murmured, then fell silent. He could see the shy smile on her face, and he understood it, for he felt much the same way.
Thank you, Nigel said again, Ill return the book in perfect condition. Goodbye.
Goodbye, she answered politely.
Mabel was certain he would be careful; the way he dressedpressed trousers, a crisp shirt, a smart tie, a wellfitted suit, shoes polished to a shinespoke of a man who valued things.
He left, and she found herself thinking about him for a long while.
It feels as if were kindred spirits, she mused, I understand him and feel his thoughts
Then she laughed at herself. Whats this? Ive never paid such close attention to a patron before.
Nigel walked out of the library feeling oddly unsettled. What a charming librarian she is, right here where she belongs. I wanted to compliment her, but my words tangled up. Why am I so shy? My modesty only holds me back. I fear I wont be able to work peacefully now that her image lingers in my mind
The rest of the afternoon he struggled at his drafting desk; the work wouldnt take his mind, and Mabels face kept appearing.
What sort of trance is this? he thought, trying to focus on the plans, but failing.
The next day, during his lunch break, he returned to the library under the pretense of borrowing another book.
Good afternoon, Mabel, she said, meeting his gaze, which made him blush.
Good afternoon, she replied with a friendly smile, Do you need another volume?
He gathered his courage, his cheeks flushing, and said, I came here thinking Id ask for a book, but I realise I should be honest I like you a great deal forgive me
Mabels eyes lit up; her cheeks flushed as well.
Why apologise? I liked you yesterday, too. I barely slept last night, thinking of you.
He grinned, Me too. I didnt close my eyes once.
A brief, awkward pause followed. Both were silent. Mabel waited for him to say something, and at last he spoke.
Mabel, may I walk you home after work?
Yes, she answered modestly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
From then on their meetings turned into walks through the town park, where Nigel spoke enthusiastically about his projects, and Mabel talked about the books she loved.
Books are like people, each with its own soul, she would say, and Nigel never found her comparison odd; he understood how dear her work was to her, spending her days among the shelves.
When autumn arrived, they spent long evenings sipping tea in her kitchen, often sitting in companionable silence, agreeing without words, Its nice to be together even when we say nothing.
They shared dreams and joys. Mabel had always wanted to see Venice, having read countless travelogues, and Nigel imagined both of them gliding silently in a gondola down a narrow canal, water rippling all around.
One Saturday, Nigel arrived at Mabels cottage on his day off, a bouquet of red roses in hand.
These are for you, Mabel. Lets get married; Ive been thinking about it for a long time. Will you?
Yes, she replied simply, joy bright in her voice.
They kept the wedding modest, not because they shunned celebration but because there was no rush. Their lives moved at an unhurried pace, each day unfolding gently. They were happy to have found each other, though after many years together they never had children.
They didnt despair or blame fate. Instead they adopted a black cat from the local shelter, named Mittens, bought a small cottage with a garden, and settled into a routine of work, evenings on the porch with books, heartfelt talks over tea, and Mittens soft purrs. At the cottage Nigel built birdhouses, Mabel knitted socks, and tended the flowerbeds. Neighbours seldom visited, whispering that their lives were dull and repetitive.
Theyre boring, day after day, theyd mutter.
But Mabel and Nigel never felt bored. Nigel brewed coffee each morning in an old pot, pouring it into fine cups, while Mabel scattered crumbs for the sparrows at the window. In summer they spent most of their time in the garden, planting blossoms; in winter they returned to the cottage, listening to the fire crackle. They spoke littlewhy waste words when everything was already understood?
Years passed, and they grew old together. They never rushed love, because theyd loved each other forever. When retirement arrived, they stayed more often at the cottage, enjoying the quiet of the woods, the birdsong, and the summer mushrooms. Their neighbours eventually respected the steady life they led.
One afternoon Nigel came back from the shop with a beautiful bottle of English wine and some fresh fruitsomething they rarely drank. He fetched two crystal glasses from the sideboard, wiping them with the kitchen towel he always used after washing the dishes.
He set the glasses on the table, poured the wine, and lifted his glass.
To us? he asked.
No, Nigel said, pulling two airline tickets from his pocket, to Venice.
Mabel froze. They had dreamed of that city all their lives, always postponing the trip because of work, the cottage, or a sick pet.
But were old, she said softly.
Were not old, just seasoned, he replied, and thats why we should go.
They boarded a plane, delighted by the narrow canals, gliding under bridges in a gondola, laughing like teenagers. He wore a straw hat, she a widebrimmed sun hat; he carried a camera, snapping pictures of every arch and ripple. One evening, as the sun dipped into the lagoon, he leaned close and whispered, Im so happy with you, Mabel, I love you more than ever.
And I thank the day you proposed, she replied, I knew how hard it had been for you then. Thank you for making my dream come true. I need nothing else from life but to stay by your side.
They laughed together, their hearts full, and continued to live slowly, savoring each moment.
Thank you for reading. All the best.
