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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Why," said Bluebell, "I met the Rollestons, and they asked: me to their picnic at the Humber on Friday; but how can I go? Look here!" and she pointed to a pair of boots evidently requiring patching. "Oh, mother! could you manage another pair now? Miss Scrag has sent home my new 'waist, and I can do up my hat, but these buckets are only fit for the dusthole." Mrs.
He selected his words deliberately with the design of reassuring her respecting the sincerity of his interest. He was aware of a vague fear that some ill-chosen remark would send Flamby flying from him, the coy wood-nymph to whom Don had likened her, and that she would disappear as she had done from Bluebell Hollow. But still she hesitated.
"I as good as told him," muttered the ruffled fair, too angry to be reticent, "that I had no one to drive me to-morrow; and I think it was real rude asking that Bluebell Leigh before my face, a mere nursery governess and not giving me so much as the chance of refusing him." "But you said," urged Mrs.
Bluebell was always now taking long, aimless walks, bringing home neither news nor gossip, and then sitting silent, absorbed in her own thoughts, or else feverishly expectant; while each evening she sank into deeper despondency after the day's disappointment. "Spirits can't be made to order," answered she, shortly. "I have got nothing to talk about." "I am afraid you are ill, my dear," said Mrs.
Bluebell hadn't the slightest idea of assuming the demure demeanour of a governess in society; the Rollestons had been her great friends before, and did not treat her as if she was in any altered position; not so, however, Miss Prosody, who would have reduced her to the status of a nursery-maid had it been in her power.
Lord Bromley hurriedly withdrew himself from Bluebell, not particularly gratified at being surprized in so romantic a pose at his time of life. "What the d l are you doing here, sir?" he angrily demanded.
Barrington thought this rather forward, but there was a suppressed murmur of applause when she had finished. One of the ladies addressed a few words to her, and then Kate carelessly brought up a gentleman who had been tormenting her for an introduction. Bluebell had hoped that Lord Bromley would have spoken to her, after their encounter in the morning.
Rolleston there heard of Evelyn Leighton's death, the fate of their protegée became naturally a subject of anxious speculation. Yet not a line had been received from her; and, after a time, the subject was avoided, for all felt that Bluebell had been ungrateful. Then Mrs. Leighton wrote out the strange story of her elopement, and having since entered a family as governess in her maiden name. Mrs.
One would think it was to be an eternal separation." "It is evident you will not miss me much," said poor Bluebell, wounded, and thankful she had not committed herself further. "I should if Bertie were not here," answered Cecil, with heartless intention. "But I really think this is the best time for you to be away, for I am out so much with him, I see nothing of you.
"Come out and play croquet, Bluebell," said she; "the children are having a game; they only let me go on condition of bringing you," and she led the way through the window into a charming garden, with large shady maple-trees just beginning to drop their deep-dyed, variegated leaves on the turf; the bluebirds were already gone, but the red and ashen-hued robin, nearly the size of a jay, still rustled through the boughs.
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