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Updated: May 10, 2025
He would not go to Los Muertos; he would ignore Magnus Derrick's invitation. Possibly, though, it might be well to run over and see what was up. "If I do," he said to himself, "I'll ride the buckskin." The buckskin was a half-broken broncho that fought like a fiend under the saddle until the quirt and spur brought her to her senses.
Miriam did not start; but the pallor of her face increased, and her tear-swollen eyes fixed themselves with a kind of wan wonder and shame on Celia. "Derrick Dene!" she echoed, faintly. "Yes," murmured Celia; and, as briefly and gently as she could, she told Miriam of Derrick's recent experiences.
About four o'clock sounded the visitor's ring. From her bedroom window Emmeline had seen Miss Derrick's approach. As the distance from the station was only five minutes' walk, the stranger naturally came on foot. A dark girl, and of tolerably good features; rather dressy; with a carriage corresponding to the tone of her letter an easy swing; head well up and shoulders squared.
Instead of speech, she turned her face to him; and laid her hand on his, which held hers nearest to him. There was a thrill of a passionate love in that gentle touch; and Derrick's heart flamed up. He caught her in his arms, and their lips joined in that first ecstatic interchange of soul and heart.
Derrick's house, where he is known only as the new teacher, nobody knows and nobody dares ask his name; and recourse is accordingly had to the diplomacy of the "help." "'Child, said Mrs. Derrick, 'what on earth is his name? "'Mother, how should I know? I didn't ask him. "'But the thing is, said Mrs. Derrick, 'I did know; the Committee told me all about him.
Emmeline could now face with confidence the scene from which she had shrunk; not only was it a duty to insist upon Miss Derrick's departure, it would be a positive pleasure. Louise very soon entered; she came into the room with her brightest look, and cried gaily: 'Oh, I hope I haven't kept you waiting for me. Are you alone? 'No. I have been out. 'Had you the storm here?
Vaughan, I should think, need only look at his own brother," said Freda, missing the drift of my speech. I longed to tell her what it was possible to tell of Derrick's life, but at that moment Sir Richard Merrifield introduced to his daughter a girl in a huge hat and great flopping sleeves, Miss Isaacson, whose picture at the Grosvenor had been so much talked of.
It was at his second visit, when we were nine, that I remember his announcing his intention of being an author when he was grown up. My mother still delights in telling the story. She was sitting at work in the south parlour one day, when I dashed into the room calling out: "Derrick's head is stuck between the banisters in the gallery; come quick, mother, come quick!"
I could never make out whether he wanted to goad his son into leaving him, in order that he might drink himself to death in peace, or whether he merely indulged in his natural love of tormenting, valuing Derrick's devotion as conducive to his own comfort, and knowing that hard words would not drive him from what he deemed to be his duty.
Machine after machine appeared; and Annixter, drawing to one side, remained for nearly ten minutes watching and interested, while, like an array of chariots clattering, jostling, creaking, clashing, an interminable procession, machine succeeding machine, six-horse team succeeding six-horse team bustling, hurried Magnus Derrick's thirty-three grain drills, each with its eight hoes, went clamouring past, like an advance of military, seeding the ten thousand acres of the great ranch; fecundating the living soil; implanting deep in the dark womb of the Earth the germ of life, the sustenance of a whole world, the food of an entire People.
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