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Updated: May 8, 2025
She hesitated a moment, then went to his side and laid her hand softly on his arm. There was a strange moistened gleam in his eyes as he turned them upon her. "Mr. Clerron, I do not understand you." "My dear, you never can understand me." "I know it," said Ivy, with her old humility; "but, at least, I might understand whether I have vexed you." "You have not vexed me."
Then she wondered if he had forgotten her lessons, and how long they were to sit there. Determined, at length, to have a change of some kind, she said, softly, "Mr. Clerron!" He roused himself suddenly, and stood up. "I thought, perhaps, you had a headache." "No, Ivy. But this is not climbing the hill of science, is it?" "Not so much as it is climbing the piazza."
Where is the child?" A merry laugh greeted her. "Oh, you good-for-nothing!" cried the good-natured old housekeeper, "you'll never die in your bed." "Not for a good while, I hope," answered Mr. Clerron. Then he made Ivy sit down by him, and took from the great basket the finest cluster of grapes. "Is that reward enough for coming?"
You would be ashamed of me, and then you would not love me; you could not; and I should lose the thing I most value. No, Mr. Clerron, I would rather keep your love in my own heart and my own home." "Ivy, can you be happy without me?" "I shall not be without you. My heart is full of lifelong joyful memories. You need not regret me. Yes, I shall be happy. I shall work with mind and hands.
Clerron came down upon the village and established himself, his men and women and horses and cattle; but as Ivy stood on his door-step, looking upward, downward, sidewise, with earnest, peering gaze, no bell, and no sign of bell, was visible; nothing unusual, save a little door-knob at the right-hand side of the door, a thing which could not be accounted for.
Clerron, when Ivy, after a couple of revolutions, resumed her seat. "You seem to be the same. I think it must be the frock." "I don't wear a frock. I don't think it would improve my style of beauty, if I did. Papa wears one sometimes." "And what kind of a frock, pray, does 'papa' wear?" "Oh, a horrid blue thing. Comes about down to his knees. Made of some kind of woollen stuff. Horrid!"
And I thought I'd put you on your guard a little, so as you needn't fall in love with him. You'll like him, of course. He likes you; but a young girl like you might make a mistake, if she was ever so modest and sweet, and nobody could be modester or sweeter than you, and think a man loved you to marry you, when he only pets and plays with you. Not that Mr. Clerron means to do anything wrong.
And so and so by a pleasant and flowery path, there came into Ivy's heart the old, old pain. Now the thing was on this wise: One morning, when she went to recite, she did not find Mr. Clerron in the library, where he usually awaited her. After spending a few moments in looking over her lessons, she rose and was about to pass to the door to ring, when Mrs.
Ivy was already on the third round of the ladder, but she stopped and answered, hesitatingly, "He said I might." "He said you might, yes," continued Mrs. Simm, talking to Ivy, but at Mr. Clerron, with whom she hardly dared to remonstrate in a more direct way. "And if he said you might throw yourself down Vineyard Cliff, it don't follow that you are bound to do it.
Clerron will stay here always; and when he goes back to the city, think what a dreary life you'd have betwixt his two proud sisters, on the one hand, to be sure, there's no reason why they should be; their gran'ther was a tailor, and their grandma was his apprentice, and he got rich, and gave all his children learning; and Mr.
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