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Updated: May 12, 2025
Hither were brought from the Dilkoosha the women and children of the garrison prior to starting on the march for Cawnpore; here Outram lay threatening Lucknow from Clyde's relief until the latter's ultimate capture of the city. But these occurrences contribute but trivially to the interest of the Alumbagh in comparison with the circumstance that within its enclosure is the grave of Havelock.
Clyde's warm heart went out to the slender, pale young girl, so far from her own relatives and friends. Miss Clyde was busy serving tea, but she cast covert glances in Blue Bonnet's direction. There was something beside the "rounding out" that interested her. There was a different air, a decided improvement in her niece. What was it? Not poise yet! It was too soon to expect that.
It was, also, some time ere I could summon up enough resolution to knock at the door of Mrs Clyde's residence, when, my decorative preparations accomplished, I at length succeeded in getting round to her house.
The girls have led a wild, carefree existence all summer. I have done my best to look after them carefully, but I found seven rather a handful." Something in Mrs. Clyde's tone made her daughter turn and look at her closely. Was it imagination, or did she seem unusually fatigued?
Gabriel isn't the only forlorn child in the world. Perhaps in the years to come he and I may be able to relieve others in distress help make the world a little easier for those less fortunate than ourselves. That's what I want to do. That's what I will do!" For a moment Miss Clyde's face softened into something very like tenderness.
She had no intimates of her own sex; with the women she was courteously distant, repelling and rather despising them. She had felt Clyde's instinctive hostility, and had returned it. Surprised and touched by her action, the tears started to her eyes. Clyde put her arms around the slender, pliant waist. "Come with me, dear, and get some sleep. You're badly shaken up.
Oh, no; far different from grandfather Clyde's turnout was the stylish carriage and the spirited bays dashing down the street, the colored driver reining them suddenly, not before the office door, but just in front of the white cottage in the same yard, the house where Dr. Holbrook boarded, and where, if he ever married in Devonshire, he would most likely bring his wife.
Their names, as standing on Clyde's book, were, "Robert Sadler, James Hagan, Stephen Todd, Julius R. Craney, Abimelech Dalrimple, Thomas Buckingham." Kid Sadler, as he was known there and then and since, was a powerful man, bony and tall, with a scrawny throat, ragged, dangling moustache, big hands, little wrinkles around his eyes, and a hoarse voice.
There was a far-away expression in Mrs. Clyde's eyes, as if she were looking beyond Blue Bonnet back into the shadowy past. She was: Blue Bonnet with her brown hair coiled low, curling about her neck and brow, was her mother over again a perfect replica. Miss Clyde noticed it, also, and when Blue Bonnet and Carita went up-stairs she spoke of it. "How Blue Bonnet grows to resemble her mother.
At least, he said to himself he did not care; and so, banishing both the doctor and Lucy from his mind, he abandoned himself to the happiness of the moment a singular land of happiness, inasmuch as it merely consisted in the fact that Maddy Clyde's young head was pillowed on his bosom, and that, by bending down, he could feel her sweet breath on his face.
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