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Updated: June 27, 2025
"If you find yourself temporarily in need of some small change for bonbons, you will find my purse in the drawer of the writing desk." Octavia Beaupree removed her hat and seated herself on a footstool near her aunt's chair, clasping her hands about her knees. Her slim and flexible figure, clad in a modish mourning costume, accommodated itself easily and gracefully to the trying position.
"My my love," she faltered, "it is so beautiful, and so expensive, that though indeed I don't know how to thank you I am afraid I should not dare to wear it." "Oh!" answered Octavia, "that's nonsense, you know. I'm sure there's no reason why people shouldn't wear becoming things. Besides, I should be awfully disappointed. I didn't think I could make it, and I'm real proud of it.
But even after the latter had deserted Octavia, the sister of Octavianus, to return to Cleopatra, the object of his love, and there was an open breach between the two rivals for the sovereignty of the world, Antony had been friendly to Arius and borne him no grudge for his close relations to his rival.
"Oh, no, you wouldn't!" said Octavia: "you'd get used to it, and wouldn't mind much, particularly if you were lucky as father is. There is every thing in being lucky, and knowing how to manage. When we first went to Bloody Gulch" "My dear!" cried Miss Belinda, aghast. "I I beg of you" Octavia stopped short: she gazed at Miss Belinda in bewilderment, as she had done several times before.
'It is my father's great principle of education, said Arthur, solemnly, 'to let them grope in the dirt. I never rested till I had seen my boy up to the ears in mud. But ha! what a magnificent horse! Why, as he started forward to look at it, 'I declare it is stopping here! 'Olivia and Mr. Hunt in the gig! cried Octavia. Oh, she has the baby in her lap! Matilda and Mrs.
Snowdon softly uttered the last word, and Octavia leaned upon her knee with an affectionate glance, Treherne leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the two changed faces, and looked as if bewildered when both smiled at him, as they sat hand in hand while the girl told her story. "Long ago a famous actress suddenly dropped dead at the close of a splendidly played tragedy.
After experience assured me that all who came to know her shared this estimate, even in those days when every man on the ship was willing to be her slave. She had a compelling atmosphere, a possessive presence; and yet her mind at this time was unemotional like Octavia, the wife of Mark Antony, "of a cold conversation."
"I think I should like to go out and walk around there," remarked Octavia, smothering a little yawn behind her hand. "Suppose we go if you don't care." "Certainly, my dear," assented Miss Belinda. "But perhaps," with a delicately dubious glance at her attire, "you would like to make some little alteration in your dress to put something a little dark over it." Octavia glanced down also.
Let me try, Octavia; it is but fair, unless you have already learned from another the lesson I hope to teach. Is it so?" "No, I think not. I do not understand myself as yet, I am so young, and this so sudden. Give me time, Frank." She blushed and fluttered now, looked half angry, half beseeching, and altogether lovely. "How much time shall I give?
"He was always generous," sighed Miss Belinda. "Poor, dear Martin!" Octavia scarcely entered into the spirit of this mournful sympathy. She was fond of her father, but her recollections of him were not pathetic or sentimental. "He took me with him wherever he went," she proceeded. "And we had a teacher from the States, who travelled with us sometimes. He never sent me away from him.
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