Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 4, 2025
"George!" she called in a strangled voice, and waited, standing, for him to enter. At noon the next day Mrs. Fowler came into Gabriella's room and found her sewing beside the window which looked on a gray expanse of sky and street, where a few snowflakes were falling. "Did you tell him, dear?" she asked, arranging a handful of red roses in a little alabaster vase on the desk.
He was a tall, thin boy, with a muscular figure, and thick brown hair, which was always rumpled. Through his ugly spectacles his eyes showed large, dark, and as beautifully soft as a girl's. His mind was remarkably keen and active, and there was in his carriage something of Gabriella's capable and commanding air, as if, like her, he embodied those qualities which compel acknowledgment.
"You needn't worry about his admirin' Fanny," replied Miss Polly, in her matter-of-fact manner, while she lifted the green watering-pot. "He was on the steps when she set out for school this mornin', an' he didn't notice her any more than he did me. Fanny ain't the sort he takes notice of, I could see that in a minute." "Then he must be blind." There was a resentful sound in Gabriella's voice.
The last volume of Gabriella's memoirs showed her in this field of struggle of new growth to suit the newer day. It was so unlike the first volume as to seem no continuation of her own life. It began one summer morning about two years after the close of the war an interval which she had spent in various efforts at self-help, at self-training.
Lady Bradstone one morning insisted upon Lady Gabriella's returning a necklace, which she had received from Almeria; and her ladyship informed Miss Turnbull, at the same time, with an air of supreme haughtiness, that "she could not possibly permit her daughters to accept such valuable presents from any but their own relations; that if the Lady Bradstones did not know what became them, it was her duty to teach them propriety."
Oh, Patty, hush, it's wicked! It's sinful!" moaned Mrs. Fowler, shutting her eyes, as if the sight of Patty's indignant loveliness gave her a headache. "Don't try to harden Gabriella's heart against him. Don't try to make her think she's really stopped loving him." Gabriella's answer to this outburst was a look which, as poor Mrs. Fowler said afterwards, "cut her to the heart."
She was very expensive, but, like the flowers on the table and the spotless damask and the lace in Gabriella's sleeves, she was one of her mother's luxuries to be paid for by additional hours of work and thought. "Wasn't Archibald with you?" inquired Gabriella, while she pushed the chairs into place and tidied the room. "He stopped at the library. There's his ring now. I'll open the door."
There were times, indeed, when the exaltation of Gabriella's womanliness seemed to have left her without a will of her own; when, in a divine submission to love, she appeared to exist only for the laudable purpose of making her lover happy. "I'd do anything on earth for you, Gabriella," said George suddenly. "I wonder if you would make a sacrifice for me if I asked it?"
I've stood it as long as I can, but there's an end to human endurance. Yes, Amos, the time has come for us to part. "Hi! Marse Beverly, said the old rascal, 'whar you gwine?" "Capital!" ejaculated the judge softly. "Capital!" And he added for Gabriella's ear: "Buffington tells the best negro stories of any man I know. Ought to have heard him at the club the other night."
"It's the only talent I ever had," she remarked gaily to her mother-in-law, "and it is running to waste." Madame, who regarded the sketches with uncompromising disdain, showed great interest in the practical application of Gabriella's ideas to the dressing of Mrs. Fowler.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking