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Updated: May 20, 2025
The light of it poured in at the open window like a benediction. Outside, the two sentries still stood on guard. But within was no earthly presence, only the scent and sound of the sea, only the growing splendour of the day, only the quiet dead waiting for the Resurrection.... Chris's hand trembled within her husband's as she drew near.
All the colour went out of Chris's face at sight of him, but he did not look at her. "Come up here," he said to Noel. "I want to speak to you." "Not coming," said Noel promptly. "Come up here," Mordaunt repeated. "What for?" Noel looked up at him, hands in pockets. "You'll be late for lunch if you don't buck up," he remarked, with a smile of cheery impudence.
"I suppose he wished me to break it to you. It will not be for two or three years. She says she cannot leave Mrs. More for the present." Chris's brain was confused by the news, and yet it all seemed external to him.
A little curious, she had him shown into one of the sitting-rooms, but was surprised on entering to find that she was in the presence of an utter stranger! This was explained by the visitor saying briefly that he was Chris's elder brother, and that he presumed the name would be sufficient introduction. Miss Trotter smiled doubtfully, for a more distinct opposite to Chris could not be conceived.
Aunt Jane thought her resemblance to Chris's aunt a remarkable coincidence and an opportunity for appealing to his better self which should be improved. She wanted to improve it by untying his hands, because he had sprained his wrist in his childhood and it was sensitive.
I see you one day, gravity itself, a serious young woman as you are to-day. And then I hear it isn't like you, Audrey." "Oh yes, it is. It's exactly like me. Like one me. There are others, of course." She told him then, making pitiful confession of her own pride and her anxiety to spare Chris's name. "I couldn't bear to have them suspect he had gone to the war because of a girl.
"You see, our Sunday-School is going to send a boy in India to college, and last Sunday we had to tell how we'd earned what we brought. A boy in Chris's class, Herbert Ogden, said Mr. Randolph paid him fifteen cents apiece for carrying two boxes of roses to the June Holiday Home. So after Sunday-School Chris went along with him and asked him if he remembered who the boxes were for.
This life has told on me more than I thought. With Chris's example before me I must not break down now." The lamps gleamed upon the dusty statuary and pictures and faded flowers in the hall, they glinted upon a long polished oak casket there reposing upon trestles. Ever and anon a servant would peep in and vanish again as if ashamed of something. The house was deadly quiet now, for Mrs.
I saw him put it in his pocket." Bell looked at the speaker with blank surprise. If such was the fact, then Chris's present statement was exactly opposed to all that she had said before. She sat opposite to Bell, with a little gleam of mischief in her lovely eyes. "You saw that man steal the Rembrandt?" Bell gasped. "Certainly not.
It was possible that even she did not wholly understand her, but she was nearer to doing so than any other in Chris's world just then. When Chris danced across to the piano and began her favourite waltz to the accompaniment of muffled howls from Cinders, she knew that the hour for confidences was past.
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