United States or Brazil ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Heartwell's married life been spent, and Lizzie's young days, too, had passed in their quiet uneventful home at Melrose. But at the age of fifteen, and three years prior to the opening of this story, under the kindly guardianship of her uncle, Lizzie Heartwell entered the popular finishing school of Madam Truxton.
It was a lovely sight, this assembled school; for where is the heart that does not see with unspeakable pleasure the dawning beauty of innocent, careless maidenhood? "Bertha, do you know the French lesson?" said Lizzie Heartwell, as the class of young ladies was passing from the assembly hall to Madam Cond's room. "Oh, just well enough, Lizzie, to keep me from a scolding, I guess.
These lines Lizzie Heartwell slipped into the leaves of a book that lay upon Leah's desk, while she was absent at a music recitation. By and by the bell sounded for the half hour's release from study. Then Leah stepped across the room, and gently taking Lizzie by the arm, said, "Come, let's walk."
The characters, both of men and women, are either fictitious and artificial, as those of Heartwell and the ladies, or easy and common, as Wittol, a tame idiot; Bluff, a swaggering coward; and Fondlewife, a jealous Puritan; and the catastrophe arises from a mistake, not very probably produced, by marrying a woman in a mask.
Marshall shrank back, and the invalid continued, "Come to me; nearer! nearer! I can hold out no longer. God knows how hard I've struggled! Lizzie Heartwell, don't you know me? Have you never suspected your long-lost Leah? Have my disgrace and degradation wiped out my identity? In Heaven's name, is there not one trace of resemblance left to the friend who loved you so much in our happy school days?
As the dial upon the delicate face of the little bronze clock on the mantel marked the hour of eight, the flutter of robes and the rustling of footsteps ushered in the expectant pair, and at once all the guests arose. Pale and trembling, Mrs. Heartwell took her place beside her daughter, as she stood before the venerable minister. For years the Rev. Mr.
The former had come to Melrose to claim the hand of his affianced, Eliza Heartwell, and to take her away as his wife. In that sweet May-time, no heart was happier than George Marshall's, and no voice gladder, as it rang out in unrestrained laughter at the droll jokes and facetious comments of his witty friend Fred. "I say, George, this is undoubtedly the beautifulest country I ever saw. Do see.
O Lizzie Heartwell, I am indeed your long-lost Leah! Your unfortunate, heart-broken Leah! Your forsaken, despised Leah! Your dying, dying Leah Mordecai! Is there no trace left, not one? Here, see this-this hated scar. Do you know me now, dear Lizzie?"
Heartwell and stepped forth from her neat white cottage on this cool September morning, accompanied by the young school-mistress. His thoughtful face bore the impress of a sleepless night, and he was taciturn and abstracted.
This night, as Lizzie Heartwell was slowly disrobing for the remaining hours of slumber after her return home, she glanced into the small mirror before her, and thought audibly "Emile Le Grande seemed quite charmed to-night with Leah; he hung around her like a shadow, and part of the evening he seemed moody and almost miserable. How strange if he should fall in love with her! She's a grand girl.
Word Of The Day