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Poland's death was received, he tried to comfort her by words that were so peculiarly elegant and sombre, that, in spite of Laura's wishes to think otherwise, they struck her like an elegiac address that had been carefully prearranged and studied; and when the tidings of poor little Bertha's death came, it would occur to Laura that Mr.
Garlan's nephew, who was thirteen years old at the time of Bertha's arrival at the little town, was a pert, good-looking boy; and his niece, a very sedate child of nine, with large, astonished eyes, conceived a strong attachment for Bertha from the very first moment that they met.
I was in a strange state of mind. I did not wonder or conjecture whether Bertha's vessel would come back to me again; I did not think of what I should do if it did come back. I did not think of what I should do if it never came back. All night I thought, wondered, and conjectured what Mary Phillips had meant by the word "but." It was plain to me what "yes" had meant.
"For a long time I have been perplexed to know where my step-mother kept the key to a small cabinet drawer that I believed contained my long-hidden miniature. By diligent search, I found it the day after Bertha's party, and, feeling unusually unhappy, I determined, if possible, to see my mother's face once more. It was Sunday, and that night we were invited to some private theatricals at Mr.
The young gentleman out of the way, the lady came rubbing her treacherous nose against Bertha's, and called her "My friend, my treasure, my star of beauty"; trying every way to be agreeable to her, to make her vengeance more certain on the poor child who, all unwittingly, had caused her lover's heart to be faithless, which, for women ambitious in love, is the worst of infidelities.
Now and then one of those chill gusts of air, which seem to be careering about aimlessly in the atmosphere during early summer, would strike into his face, and recal! him to a keener self-consciousness. Ralph concluded, from his increasing agitation, that he must be very near Bertha's home. He stopped and looked around him.
"No, not that.... Tell me, do you " The carriage stopped. Emil waited by Bertha's side until the porter came out and opened the door, then he kissed her hand with the most ceremonious politeness, and said: "Good-bye till we meet again, dear lady." He drove away. Bertha's sleep that night was sound and heavy. When she awoke, the light of the morning sun was streaming around her.
Madeleine faintly murmured "Maurice," and then her eyes wandered from his face to those around her, and she added, "What is it?" Bertha's transition from grief to joy was so clamorous that no one could answer. If Gaston had not restrained her, Madeleine's bandage would have been endangered by the young girl's vehement embraces, which were mingled with incoherent exclamations of rapture.
Whatever came of it, he must appear a patriotic burgomaster; so he took his night-cap off, and, in spite of the energetic remonstrances of the burgomaster's lady, was soon down in the street, surrounded by half a dozen men, and making for Bertha's eventful little mansion Within which was passing a terrible scene.
If Florence won the Scholarship and became the adopted heiress of a rich aunt, the opportunities in favor of Bertha's advancement would be enormous. On the other hand, if Mary Bateman won the Scholarship nothing at all would happen to further Bertha's interest. The same might be said with regard to Kitty Sharston.
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