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Thus spoke the fatalism that was the heritage of her Indian blood. The thought of Miss Colebrooke at Wetmore’s reminded her of a letter for Peter that had been brought that morning by one of the Wetmore cow-boys. "I forgot—there’s a letter for you."
At the next, which occurred a fortnight later, Pauline announced that she had a piece of interesting news. "Do you know a Mr. Joel Flagg in Benham?" "I know who he is," said Selma. "I have met his daughter." "It seems he has made a fortune in oil and real estate, and is desirous to build a college for women in memory of his mother, Sarah Wetmore.
He spends his time making them." "He's made some very pretty ones about you." "Like the one you just quoted?" "No, not exactly. He admires you ever so much. He says" She stopped, teasingly. "What?" "He says you could be almost anything you wished, if you didn't wish to be everything." "That sounds more like the school of Wetmore. That's what you say, Alma.
"My dear, I have a wife to support." Beaton intervened with a question. "Do you mean that Miss Leighton isn't standing it very well?" "How do I know? She isn't the kind that bends; she's the kind that breaks." After a little silence Mrs. Wetmore asked, "Won't you come home with us, Mr. Beaton?" "Thank you; no. I have an engagement." "I don't see why that should prevent you," said Wetmore.
Ludlow began to tell of some of Charmian's attempts to realize her ideal. Wetmore listened with a pitying smile. "Poor thing! It isn't much like the genuine thing, as we used to see it in Paris, is it? We Americans are too innocent in our traditions and experiences; our Bohemia is a non-alcoholic, unfermented condition.
Westley, of Wetmore; but it was in relation to themselves; without this relation, nothing had any meaning. When they parted after an evening prolonged till midnight in Mrs. Montgomery's parlor, that which had been quiescent in Cornelia's soul, stirred again, and she knew that she was wrong to let Ludlow go without telling him of Dickerson.
He waited, as if for Ludlow to speak; then he went on: "I supposed you had been working from some new theory of yours, and I thought I had said about as much on your theories as you would stand for the time." "Was that all?" Ludlow asked. "All? It seems to me that's a good deal to be compressed into one small 'hello." Wetmore lighted a pipe, and began to smoke in great comfort.
She looked at him as if she were going to snub him openly for using her name; but apparently she decided to do it covertly. "You didn't at first. I really used to believe you could be serious, once." "Couldn't you believe it again? Now?" "Not when you put on that wind-harp stop." "Wetmore has been talking to you about me. He would sacrifice his best friend to a phrase.
The country about it has all the charm of river scenery in a settled and ancient land, and the great castle and piled town of Wetmore, cliffs of battlemented grey wall rising above a dense cluster of red roofs, form the background to innumerable gracious prospects of great stream-fed trees, level meadows of buttercups, sweeping curves of osier and rush-rimmed river, the playing fields and the sedgy, lily-spangled levels of Avonlea.
He didn't apply for it for a long time, and then there was a hitch about it, and it was somethinged vetoed, I believe she said." "Who vetoed it?" asked Mrs. Leighton, with some curiosity about the process, which she held in reserve. "I don't know-whoever vetoes things. I wonder what Mr. Wetmore does think of us his class. We must seem perfectly crazy.
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