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Updated: June 20, 2025
To the surprise of many good people, the Judge had recently formed another habit. At least once a week he would drop in at the little house on Olive Street next to Mr. Brinsmade's big one, which was shut up, and take tea with Mrs. Brice. Afterward he would sit on the little porch over the garden in the rear, or on the front steps, and watch the bob-tailed horse-cars go by.
The music in the cabin came to an abrupt pause, and only the tumbling of waters through the planks of the great wheels broke the silence. They were both startled by laughter at their shoulders. There stood Miss Russell, the picture of merriment, her arm locked in Anne Brinsmade's. "It is the hour when all devout worshippers turn towards the East," she said.
The thought of one who might have accomplished what her father could not was in his head. She was at Monticello. Some three weeks later Mr. Brinsmade's buggy drew up at Mrs. Brice's door. The Brinsmade family had been for some time in the country. And frequently, when that gentleman was detained in town by business, he would stop at the little home for tea.
"Stephen, do you remember that fearful afternoon of the panic, when you came over from Anne Brinsmade's to reassure me?" "Yes, dear," he said. "But what made you think of it now?" She did not answer him directly. "I believed what you said, Stephen. But you were so strong, so calm, so sure of yourself. I think that made me angry when I thought how ridiculous I must have been." He pressed her hand.
Brinsmade's voice mingling with another, the excitable energy of which recalled some familiar episode. Almost so it seemed at one motion, the owner of the voice had come out of the door and had seized Stephen's hand in a warm grasp, a tall and spare figure in the dress of a senior officer.
"Stephen," said he, "of course you're going to the Brinsmade's." Stephen shook his head. "Why not?" said Tom, in surprise. "Haven't you a costume?" "Yes," he answered dubiously. "Why, then, you've got to come with me," says Tom, heartily. "It isn't too late, and they'll want you. I've a buggy, and I'm going to the Russells' to change my clothes. Came along" Steven went.
"Rosetta, tell Ned I wish the carriage at once." Her aunt seized her convulsively by the arm. "Where are you going, Jinny?" she demanded. "Your Pa would never forgive me if anything happened to you." A smile, half pity, crossed the girl's anxious face. "I am afraid that I must risk adding to your misfortune, Aunt Lillian," she said, and left the room. Virginia drove to Mr. Brinsmade's.
Brinsmade's place, the moon hung like a great round lantern under the spreading trees about the house. Clarence caught a glimpse of his cousin's face in the light. She was leaning forward, her gaze fixed intently on the stone posts which stood like monuments between the bushes at the entrance. Then she drew back again into the dark corner of the barouche.
Foreigners of distinction fell in love with the place, with its open-hearted master and mistress, and wrote of it in their journals. Would that many of our countrymen, who think of the West as rough, might have known the quality of the Brinsmades and their neighbors! An era of charity, of golden simplicity, was passing on that October night of Anne Brinsmade's ball.
Brinsmade's place, the moon hung like a great round lantern under the spreading trees about the house. Clarence caught a glimpse of his cousin's face in the light. She was leaning forward, her gaze fixed intently on the stone posts which stood like monuments between the bushes at the entrance. Then she drew back again into the dark corner of the barouche.
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