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Updated: May 23, 2025
Hemstead, come away, or before we know it you will be off on the quixotic attempt to rescue what uncle calls a 'hardy water-rat, that all the water of the river could not drown." "O, I see," sneered De Forrest; "Mr. Hemstead wishes to get cheaply, standing here within and in good company, the credit of being willing to attempt a perilous rescue."
This unexpected retort threw both Hemstead and Lottie into disastrous confusion, which Mrs, Marchmont was not slow to observe, and which was not allayed by Mr. Dimmerly's cackling laugh, as he chuckled, "A well-flown arrow." "Well," said Hemstead, trying to laugh it off, "all I can say in self-defence is, that in either case my faint could not be spelled with an e.
Years have passed. Mr. and Mrs. Hemstead are the chief social, refining, and Christianizing influences of a growing Western town. They have the confidence and sympathy of the entire community, and are people of such force that they make themselves felt in every department of life.
Marchmont and Bel were greatly pleased, and gave Hemstead credit for being a "very sensible young man, who, having been shown his folly, could act like a gentleman and not make a fuss." Even De Forrest looked at the student approvingly, especially as he had been to a city tailor and was clothed in taste and harmony with his manly proportions.
"I knew you would come," said Mrs. Dlimm, taking both of Lottie's hands with utter absence of formality. "Husband said I needn't look for you any more, but I felt it in my bones no, my heart that you would come. When I feel a thing is going to take place it always does. So you are here. I am very glad to see your Mr. Hemstead too. This is splendid." And Mrs.
But come, each one sing"; and she commenced a ballad, well known to the others, but not to him. It sounded very well indeed, only Harcourt's bass was much too light for the other voices. "Why don't you sing?" asked Lottie of Hemstead. "I do not know the air or words." "Shall we try Old Hundred?" asked De Forrest. "Ahem! The long metre doxology. "Praise God from whom all blessings flow."
Therefore, instead of the hard, bitter words that she intended to speak, she said, with a little quaver in her voice. "Mr. Hemstead, I almost believe that you feel as bad as I do." When he looked up she was sure he felt worse. But he seemed to try to forget his own trouble as he said kindly, "I'm sorry you feel bad."
It was a rather significant fact, which did not occur to him, however, that his zeal and interest were almost entirely concentrated on Lottie. His cousin Addie, and indeed all the others, seemed equally in need. It must be confessed that some sinners are much more interesting than others, and Hemstead had never met one half so interesting as Lottie. And yet his interest in her was natural.
By noon Hemstead had finished his sermon, and Lottie had completed her mysterious fancy-work; and both were ready for the festivities of Christmas eve. Mr. Dimmerly was a great stickler for the old English customs, and always had the yule-log brought in with great ceremony.
"What are you thinking about, Lottie, that you are smiling so sweetly?" asked her room-mate, Bel Parton. "In truth, it was a sweet thought," said Lottie, her laugh awakening sudden echoes in the still house, and sounding as oddly as a bird's song at night. "I'm glad Frank Hemstead doesn't know. If he did, I should appall instead of fascinating him."
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