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Updated: July 27, 2025
Ashwood laid her slim gloved fingers lightly but unwittingly on John Milton's arm, and withdrew them, however, with a quick girlish apology and a foolish color which annoyed her more than the appearance of familiarity.
She thought of the old life in the pretty cottage at Ashwood, where for so short a time she had been happy with her handsome, ne'er-do-well husband, whom at first she had loved so blindly; she thought of the lovely, golden-haired child which she had loved so wildly, and of the kind, clever doctor, who had been so suddenly called to his account; and then her thoughts wandered to the stranger who had intrusted his child to her care.
It seemed almost incredible. And why had no one written to him? Still he remembered the address of his child's foster-mother. It was Ashwood Cottage; and he went thither at once. When he found that too closed and deserted, it seemed to him that fortune was playing him a trick.
On the Friday Marchmont found himself travelling down to Ashwood in company with Mr. Morewood. The painter had an extreme fit of his mocking acidity; he refrained his tongue from nobody and showed no respect for what might be guessed to be delicate points with his companion.
Fletcher laid aside the manuscript and letter, and took up his apparently suspended work. "When you see this Mrs. Mrs. Ashwood again, you might say" "I shall not see her again," interrupted John Milton hastily. Mr. Fletcher shrugged his shoulders. "Very well," he said with a peculiar smile, "I will write to her. Now, Mr.
Think as he would ponder as he would, it was no easy task that lay before him to tell her in so many words that he did not love her. Surely no man had ever had anything so ungracious to do before. He looked round the grounds, and presently saw her the center of a brilliant group near the lake. The Duke of Ashwood was by her side, the élite of the guests had gathered round her.
"I am Mrs. Ashwood of Philadelphia, visiting San Francisco with my sister and brother, who are, I am afraid, even now hopelessly waiting luncheon for me at San Mateo. But as there seems to be no prospect of my joining them in time, I hope you will be able to give me the pleasure of your company, with whatever they may give us here in the way of refreshment."
"I shall be very happy," returned John Milton with unmistakable candor; "but perhaps some of your friends will be arriving in quest of you, if they are not already here." "Then they will join us or wait," said Mrs. Ashwood incisively, with her first exhibition of the imperiousness of a rich and pretty woman.
The benighted state of the villages was a cause of earnest prayer that men might be sent out, apt to teach, and willing to sacrifice liberty, and even life, to promote the peaceful reign of the Redeemer. The names of the men who were thus set apart were John Bunyan, Samuel Fenn, Joseph Whiteman, John Fenn, Oliver Scott, Luke Ashwood, Thomas Cooper, Edward Dent, Edward Isaac, and Nehemiah Coxe.
But the unfortunate result of this was to give further impulse to the now racing horses as they approached a point where the slope terminated in two diverging canyons. Mrs. Ashwood gave a sharp pull upon her bit. To her consternation the mustang stopped short almost instantly, planting his two fore feet rigidly in the dust and even sliding forward with the impetus.
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