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Updated: June 20, 2025
Then he went over to the fireplace and began tearing the note into little bits. Only once did he pause, to look again at his name on the envelope. "It is an invitation to Miss Carvel's party," he said. By Thursday of that week the Brices, with thanksgiving in their hearts, had taken possession of Mr. Brinsmade's little house.
Her own mind was wandering when it should not, and recollections she had tried to strangle had sprung up once more. Only that morning in church she had lived over again the scene by Mr. Brinsmade's gate, and it was then that a wayward but resistless impulse to go to the Judge's office had seized her. The thought of the old man lonely and bitter in his room decided her.
Brinsmade's. Her face was troubled, as well it might be. The most alarming reports were cried up to her from the street, and she looked every moment for the black smoke of destruction to appear to the southward. Around her were gathered the Carvel servants, most of them crying, and imploring her not to leave them. And when Mrs.
They were all the remembrance I had of that night at Mr. Brinsmade's gate, when we came so near to each other." "Virginia," he said, "some force that we cannot understand has brought us together, some force that we could not hinder.
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, 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.
Then he went over to the fireplace and began tearing the note into little bits. Only once did he pause, to look again at his name on the envelope. "It is an invitation to Miss Carvel's party," he said. By Thursday of that week the Brices, with thanksgiving in their hearts, had taken possession of Mr. Brinsmade's little house.
Her own mind was wandering when it should not, and recollections she had tried to strangle had sprung up once more. Only that morning in church she had lived over again the scene by Mr. Brinsmade's gate, and it was then that a wayward but resistless impulse to go to the Judge's office had seized her. The thought of the old man lonely and bitter in his room decided her.
"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 own carriage was drawn up at his door; and that gentleman himself standing on the threshold. He came down his steps bareheaded in the wet to hand Virginia from her carriage. Courteous and kind as ever, he asked for her father and her aunt as he led her into the house.
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