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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Now, Miss Marsden," said Hemstead, reproachfully, "you are again indulging in orientalism." "Certainly," chimed in De Forrest; "that sylph so filled his eye that she became his ideal, as you told us, Miss Lottie." "I told you?" she answered in sudden annoyance; "your memory is better than mine." Soon after, Mr.
"I'm sure I don't know. If the one I want won't venture, I can go alone." "Do you think she'll go?" asked Lottie, so innocently that the others had no slight task in controlling their faces. "Who will go?" said Hemstead, quickly. "The one whom you said you wanted to." "Now I'm sure I did not mention any one," said Hemstead, blushing and laughing. "Well, you did not exactly speak her name."
As she came to know Hemstead better, she found that he was different from what she had expected. The conventional idea of a theological student had dwelt in her mind; and she had expected to find a rather narrow and spiritually conceited man, full of the clerical mannerisms which she had often heard laughed at.
Other men admired and flattered her, bowing to her in unvarying and indiscriminating homage. Hemstead not only admired but respected her for the good qualities that she had simulated, and with equal sincerity recognized faults and failures. She had been admired all her life, but respect from a true, good man was a new offering, and, even though obtained by fraud, was as delightful as it was novel.
Anyway, you made me wish I was a better girl, and I was thinking how to begin; then came this awful Sunday, and your awful sermon, which made me both fear and hate God, and want to keep away from Him as far and as long as I can." "Your words perplex and sadden me beyond measure," said Hemstead.
"I stood by you faithfully last night in the storm, did I not?" she said, with a shy, half-mischievous glance. "It seems too good to be true," he said, in a low tone. "Was there ever such a diffident, modest creature!" she said, brusquely. "Mr. Hemstead, you will never ENTER Heaven. The angels will have to pull you in."
This, with the three pound fourteen already in the heel, made a total of seven pounds one shilling. "I'll tell you," said Wicks. "Let Carthew and Tommy and me take one pound apiece, and Hemstead and Amalu split the other four, and toss up for the odd bob." "O, rot!" said Carthew. "Tommy and I are bursting already. We can take half a sov. each, and let the other three have forty shillings."
She was her old, decided, resolute self; all the more resolute because facing, to her, a new hindrance, her own conscience, which Hemstead had unwittingly awakened; and it said to its uncomfortable possessor some rather severe things that day. If Lottie were Bel Parton, she would have been in a miserably undecided state.
Is this pale and silent girl the one whose cheeks, a little before, were aflame, and every nerve tingling with the most unwonted sensations, and for no better reason apparently than that Hemstead had seen her tugging at a fibrous spray of hemlock, and had severed it with his knife?
She caught his dark look, and, interpreting it to mean something like jealousy, became more gracious toward her roue-looking attendant, with the purpose of piquing Hemstead. A little later Bel came into the hall, leaning upon the arm of a gentleman. Having requested her escort to get her a glass of water she was left alone a few moments.
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