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He saw her wide eyes full of fear, the bow of the mouth strained taut with anxiety, her unconscious fear of him as one of the alien faction, and withal her concern for his comfort. Judith’s control was far greater, but though she hid it skilfully, he knew the sorrow that consumed her. There was a cry from the room beyond, and Judith, snatching up the candle, went in to the children.
Eudora’s accent was but faintly reminiscent of her mother’s strong Smoky Mountain dialect, as a crude feature is sometimes softened in the second generation. It was not unpleasing on her full, rosy mouth. The girl had the seductiveness of her half-sister, Judith, without a hint of Judith’s spiritual quality.
Judith’s prayer was an outflowing of soul to the great forces about her, a wish to be in harmony with them, to remember her kinship, to keep some measure of their serenity in the press of burdens. The way of the Indian was ever her way when circumstance raised no barriers; the four walls of a house were a prison to her after the days lengthened and the summer nights grew warm.
She had never told Peter of that strange woodland meeting with Judith, yet Judith’s beauty, her probable hold over Peter, the degree of his affection for her were rankling questions in Kitty’s consciousness. In the stress of these considerations Kitty lost her head completely for so old a campaigner. She drew the apron-string tight—attempted force instead of strategy.
Dax," pleaded Peter, boyishly, "I’m perishing for a cup of coffee, and I’ve got to get back to my outfit before dark." "Oh, go on with you," whinnied the gorgon; but she left the room to make the coffee. Judith’s eyes sought his. "Why don’t you and Leander form a coalition for the overthrow of the enemy?" His voice had dropped a tone lower than in his parley with Mrs.
She took her place in the circle about the homely, steaming fare, with an ease and grace that suggested that dining off the ground was an every-day affair with her, and chairs and tables undreamed-of luxuries. Mary envied her ready tact. Why could she not meet these people with Judith’s poise—bring out the best of them, as she did?
Then, with a swift change of subject, "How are the boys getting on with their education, Miss Carmichael?" The boys looked at Mary out of the corners of their eyes. Their prowess in the field of letters had not been publicly discussed before. Mary Carmichael, emboldened by Judith’s presence, looked at her tormentors with a judicious glance.
He even came to enjoy a sort of remote popularity as one who was conversant with the best—a nonchalant social connoisseur—yet who realized the stern primitive beauties of the range life. Judith’s convent upbringing had conferred on her the doubtful advantage of a gentlewoman’s tastes and bearing, making of her, therefore, an alien in her father’s house. When Mrs.
At sound of it Judith’s heart stopped beating. The voice was Peter Hamilton’s. The Cabin In The Valley And Judith, taken unawares by the unexpected turn of things, comforted as a lost child that is found, told all her feeling for him in the way she called his name.
Atkins happening again on the Rodney family, and her husband having increased and multiplied his army pay many times over by a successful venture in cattle, the scheme of Judith’s convent education was put through by the major’s wife, who had kept her New England conscience, the discomforts of frontier posts notwithstanding.
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