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Updated: June 14, 2025
The sun shone bright on the windows of Lumley's house, but she could hear the crying of Abner's wife, and of old Ezra and Eliza Lumley, when their children were stricken or shamed; when Abel Baragar drew tighter and tighter the chains of the mortgage, which at last made them tenants in the house once their own. Only eight years ago, and all this had happened.
Cassy Mavor had made her following, had won her place, was the idol of "the gallery"; and yet she was "of the people," as she had always been, until her first sickness came, and she had gone out to Lumley's, out along the foothills of the Rockies. What had made her fall in love with George Baragar? She could not have told, if she had been asked.
The very first words uttered had plunged Abel Baragar and his son's wife into the midst of the difficulty which she had hoped might, after all, be avoided. "Come, and I'll show you your room, Cassy," she said. "It faces south, and you'll get the sun all day. It's like a sun-parlor. We're going to have supper in a couple of hours, and you must rest some first. Is the house warm enough for you?"
"You look as strong as a bull." She held out her hand to him and laughed. "Hope I see you well," said Abel Baragar, mechanically, as he took the hand and shook it awkwardly. "Oh, I'm all right," answered the nonchalant little woman, undoing her jacket. "Shake hands with your grandfather, George.
"You look as strong as a bull." She held out her hand to him and laughed. "Hope I see you well," said Abel Baragar mechanically, as he took the hand and shook it awkwardly. "Oh, I'm all right," answered the nonchalant little woman, undoing her jacket. "Shake hands with your grandfather, George.
Sophy Baragar had been such a true-hearted, brave-souled woman, and he had been so impatient and exacting with her, till the beautiful face, which had been reproduced in George, had lost its colour and its fire, had become careworn and sweet with that sweetness which goes early out of the world.
The very first words uttered had plunged Abel Baragar and his son's wife into the midst of the difficulty which she had hoped might, after all, be avoided. "Come, and I'll show you your room, Cassy," she said. "It faces south, and you'll get the sun all day. It's like a sun-parlour. We're going to have supper in a couple of hours, and you must rest some first. Is the house warm enough for you?"
One by one the old woman's boys and girls had died four of them and she was now alone, with not a single grandchild left to cheer her; and the life out here with Abel Baragar had been unrelieved by much that was heartening to a woman; for Black Andy, Abel's son, was not an inspiring figure, though even his moroseness gave way under her influence.
The face was George's, the sensuous, luxurious mouth; but the eyes were not those of a Baragar, nor yet those of Aunt Kate's family; and they were not wholly like the mother's. They were full and brimming, while hers were small and whimsical; yet they had her quick, humorous flashes and her quaintness. "Have I changed so much? Have you forgotten me?" Cassy asked, looking the old man in the eyes.
Sophy Baragar had been such a true-hearted, brave-souled woman, and he had been so impatient and exacting with her, till the beautiful face, which had been reproduced in George, had lost its color and its fire, had become careworn and sweet with that sweetness which goes early out of the world.
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