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Updated: May 6, 2025
The walk was a dreary one, for Kingsdene, one of the most beautiful places in England in fine weather, lies so low that in the winter months fogs are frequent, and the rain is almost incessant, so that then the atmosphere is always damp and chilly.
"I can't say until you ask me," said Priscilla; "what do you want me to do?" "There's a girl at Kingsdene, a Miss Forbes. She makes my dresses now and then; I had a letter from her last night, and she is going to London in a hurry because her mother is ill. She made this dress for me. Isn't it pretty?" "Yes," answered Priscilla, just glancing at it.
It seemed to Maggie as if the Greek play had suddenly faded and gone out of sight behind a curtain. "There," said Rosalind, "that's for you. I was at Kingsdene to-day and I I said you should have it, and I I promised that I'd help you, Maggie. I yes I promised. I said I would help you, if you'd let me." "Thank you," replied Miss Oliphant in a lofty tone.
There was nothing in this, for Rosalind was a gay young person and had many friends in Kingsdene. Few days passed that did not see her in the old town on her way to visit this friend or that, or to perpetrate some little piece of extravagance at Spilman's or at her dressmaker's. On this occasion, however, Rosalind was neither at Spilman's or the dressmaker's.
Shortly after the commencement of the term Hammond met Miss Oliphant by accident just outside Kingsdene. "I was going to post a letter to you," he said. His face was unusually pale, his eyes full of joy and yet of solicitude. "You can tell me what you have written," replied Maggie in her gayest voice. "No, I would rather you read my letter."
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