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Updated: June 29, 2025
The crannied features of the evergreen society lady, who, if she had been a few years older, would have been as old-fashioned as her daughter, shaped themselves to the dusty quarries of his and Avice's parents, down which he had clambered with Avice hundreds of times.
No letters had yet come from Bob, and she knew that her stepmother had been hovering near the letter-box whenever the postman had called. Mrs. Rainham had accompanied them on their walk the day before; a remark of Avice's revealed that she meant to do so again to-day. "It's all so silly," the girl said to herself.
Thus they talked till Jocelyn bade her goodnight, it being noticeable that Mrs. Pierston, chastened by her illnesses, maintained no longer any reserve on her gladness to acquire him as her son-in-law; and her feelings destroyed any remaining scruples he might have had from perceiving that Avice's consent was rather an obedience than a desire.
Let us watch Avice's mother as she sets the table for four-hours, remembering that they are going to have company, and therefore will try to make things a little more comfortable than usual. In the first place, there will be a table to set. If they were alone, they would use one or two of the high stools.
She wanted to try on her little brother the effect of one of Sister Avice's ointments, which she thought more likely to be efficacious than melted mutton fat, mixed with pounded worms, scrapings from the church bells, and boiled seaweed, but some of her ingredients were out of reach, unless they were attainable at Sunderland, and she obtained permission to ride thither under the escort of Cuthbert Ridley, and was provided with a small purse the proceeds of the Baron's dues out of the fishermen's sales of herrings.
Drawing nearer, he discovered her to be engaged in conversation with the skipper and an elderly woman both come straight from the oolitic isle, as was apparent in a moment from their accent. Pierston felt no hesitation in making himself known as a native, the ruptured engagement between Avice's mother and himself twenty years before having been known to few or none now living.
'If you had not a'ready married me, you'd cut my acquaintance! That's a pretty thing for a wife to say! The remark struck his ear unpleasantly, and by-and-by he went back again. Avice's cottage was now lighted: she must have come round by the other road. Satisfied that she was safely domiciled for the night he opened the gate of Sylvania Castle and retired to his room also.
Avice's immediate answer was what would be the instinctive unthinking response of most professing Christians. "Why, Father, of course I do!" "Good. What dost thou believe?" Avice was silent. "Ah!" said the priest. "It is easy to think we believe: but hard to put our faith into plain words. If the faith were clearer, maybe the words would follow."
It may be feared that one chief reliance was on the fact that she could not be holy enough for a vision of the Saint, but this was not so valuable to her as the touch of Sister Avice's kind hand, or the very knowing her present. That story was the prelude to many more.
Read ye this, sir. It was left in her bedroom, and we be fairly gallied out of our senses! He took the letter and confusedly beheld that it was in two handwritings, the first section being in Avice's: 'MY DEAR MOTHER, How ever will you forgive me for what I have done! So deceitful as it seems. And yet till this night I had no idea of deceiving either you or Mr. Pierston.
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