United States or Martinique ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
She was brooding in stupefaction on her father and the wine as she requested Colonel De Craye to persuade Willoughby to take the general view of Crossjay's future and act on it. "He seems fond of the boy, too," said De Craye, musingly. "You speak in doubt?" "Not at all. But is he not men are queer fish! make allowance for us a trifle tyrannical, pleasantly, with those he is fond of?"
Besides, the clouded mind was opposed to her receiving impressions. Young Crossjay's voice in the still morning air came to her cars. The dear guileless chatter of the boy's voice. Why, assuredly it was young Crossjay who was the man she loved. And he loved her. And he was going to be an unselfish, sustaining, true, strong man, the man she longed for, for anchorage.
Crossjay's voice ran up and down a diatonic scale with here and there a query in semitone and a laugh on a ringing note. She wondered what he could have to talk of so incessantly, and imagined all the dialogue. He prattled of his yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow, which did not imply past and future, but his vivid present. She felt like one vainly trying to fly in hearing him; she felt old.
She reproached herself for not having the same devotion to the cold idea of duty as he had; and though it provoked inquiry, she would not stop to ask why he had left Miss Middleton a prey to the sparkling colonel. It seemed a proof of the philosophy he preached. As she was passing by young Crossjay's bedroom door a face appeared.
The brows of the phantom Vernon whom she conjured up were stern, as she had seen them yesterday in the library. She gave herself a chiding for thinking of him when her mind should be intent on that which he was opposed to. It was a livelier relaxation to think of young Crossjay's shame-faced confession presently, that he had been a laggard in bed while she swept the dews.
You're a lucky fellow, for she's always thinking of you." "I know I'm always thinking of her," said Crossjay. "If ever you're in a scrape, she's the person you must go to." "Yes, if I know where she is!" "Why, generally she'll be at the Hall." There was no reply: Crossjay's dreadful secret jumped to his throat. He certainly was a weaker lock for being full of breakfast. "I want to see Mr.
She was led to think that Willoughby had drawn them to the library with the design to be rid of her protector, and she began to fear him. She proposed to pay her respects to the ladies Eleanor and Isabel. They were not seen, and a footman reported in the drawing-room that they were out driving. She grasped young Crossjay's hand. Sir Willoughby dispatched him to Mrs.
Crossjay's prospective connection with the mysterious ocean bestowed the title of captain on him by common consent; he led them, and when missing for lessons he was generally in the society of Jacob Croom or Jonathan Fernaway. Vernon made sure of Crossjay when he perceived Jacob Croom sitting on a stool in the little lodge-parlour.
They led the fated lad home between them, singularly drawn together by their joint ministrations to him, in which her delicacy had to stand fire, and sweet good-nature made naught of any trial. They were hand in hand with the little fellow as physician and professional nurse. Crossjay's accident was only another proof, as Vernon told Miss Dale, that the boy was but half monkey.
"I can love still, for I love him," she said, as she luxuriated in young Crossjay's boy's voice, again envying him his bath in the lake waters, which seemed to her to have the power to wash away grief and chains. Then it was that she resolved to let Crossjay see the last of her in this place.
Word Of The Day