Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 19, 2025
Blondelle, nowise tranquilized by the answer of her hostess "Oh! what are those white things that I see standing among the bushes at the foot of the mountain? They look like tombstones!" she added, with a shudder. "They are tombstones," replied Sybil in a low, grave voice; "that is our family burial-ground, and all the Berners, for seven generations, lie buried there."
And about midway of this curve, or semi-circle, the carriage drew up. On the left-hand was dimly seen the lake; on the right-hand the gate letting into the elm-tree avenue that led straight up to the house. "That is the Black Pond, and there is Black Hall. More 'blackness, Mrs. Blondelle," smiled Sybil, who was so delighted to get home that she forgot her jealousy.
And with that tenderness towards the faults of the dead, which all magnanimous natures share, she forbore to say, or even to think, how utterly unprincipled had been the course of Rosa Blondelle from the first to the last of their acquaintance with that vain and frivolous coquette. Sybil was now almost sinking with weariness.
I mention this little domestic incident because, in some strange way that I cannot begin to understand, it quieted my misgivings, so that I went below and waited patiently for the rising of Mr. Horace Blondelle. Madam, I might have waited till this time!" said the landlord, pausing solemnly. "Why? go on and tell me!" impulsively exclaimed Mrs. Berners. "Why? I will soon let you know.
He then described the funeral of Rosa Blondelle, which had taken place that day, and which had been attended not only by all the county gentry, who had gathered to show their respect and sympathy for the dead, but also by crowds of all sorts of people, who came in curiosity to the scene.
I was inclined to be angry with the cashier, but I reflected that there was probably a mistake of some sort; so I hurried back home and inquired if Mr. Horace Blondelle had shown himself yet. I was told that he had not yet even rung his bell. Then I went to his private parlor, which had been the scene of last night's dinner giving and Sabbath breaking.
And again Lyon Berners' devotion to Rosa Blondelle deeply distressed Sybil. At nightfall they reached Staunton, where they slept. On the morning of the fourth and last day of their journey, they took the cross-country coach and changed their route, which now led them towards the wildest, dreariest, and loneliest passes of the Alleghenies.
Lyon Berners spent hers in receiving the calls and congratulations of her friends, to whom she always presented her permanent visitor, Mrs. Blondelle. At length two unconnected events happened at the same time. The court adjourned, and the last visit of ceremony was paid. Sybil, at the instance of Mr. Berners, gave a dinner-party, and they entertained the judges and barristers of the court.
As the circle revolved before them, Sybil saw no one but Lyon Berners and Rosa Blondelle, and these she saw always with her eyes, when they were before them; with her spirit, when they had revolved away from them.
Their route now lay through some of the wildest passes of the Blue Ridge. And here the enthusiasm of Rosa Blondelle burst forth. She said that she had seen grand mountains in Scotland, but nothing no, nothing to equal these in grandeur and beauty!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking