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Updated: June 11, 2025
Clara Middleton envied her the double-blossom wild cherry-tree, nothing else. One sprig of it, if it had not faded and gone to dust-colour like crusty Alpine snow in the lower hollows, and then she could depart, bearing away a memory of the best here! Her fiction of the headache pained her no longer. She changed her muslin dress for silk; she was contented with the first bonnet Barclay presented.
"And then they're dead," said Crossjay. Clara wished Sir Willoughby were confronting her: she could have spoken. She asked the boy where Mr. Whitford was. Crossjay pointed very secretly in the direction of the double-blossom wild-cherry.
Call this the Vestal of civilization, then; he has at least done something to vindicate the beauty of the office as well as the justness of the title." "It is Vernon's Holy Tree the young rascal has been despoiling," said Sir Willoughby merrily. Miss Middleton was informed that this double-blossom wild cherry-tree was worshipped by Mr. Whitford. Sir Willoughby promised he would conduct her to it.
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