Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 9, 2025
The old woman lay resting in her bed; her face wore the same look of sorrowful gentleness that it had done for years, despite the ravages of sickness. But to-day, signs of uneasiness were apparent; shadows of fear seemed flitting ever and anon over her features. Olof wiped his mother's forehead gently. "You are not so well to-day?" he asked. "'Tis not that no.
The girl sat still with the same light of wonder in her eyes, looking now at the portrait, now at Olof himself. "Yes, it is really you," she said at last, and touching the picture with her lips, she laid it in the case, and slipped it into her bosom. "Now I have nothing more to ask," she said. "I shall thank you all my life for this. When you are gone, you will be with me still.
How he was to end it he did not know only that this was unendurable it was hell! Smiling faces greeted Olof as he appeared in the doorway and stood a moment, unable to get through the press. His brain cleared a little after all, he could not drive the guests from the house like a madman with a knife in his hand.
I have a friend, Olof Ehrensvärd, a Swede by birth, who yet, by reason of a strange and melancholy mischance of his early boyhood, has thrown his lot with that of the New World.
She looked up at him helplessly, as if he alone could aid her. Olof made a movement of impatience, as if he had made an error in his reckoning that was hard to put right. "Nothing, I suppose," he said at last, trying to speak lightly. "You had nothing before, you know." "Ah, but that was different. Now, I must have something."
"What what is it?" he asked, with emotion, hovering between fear and a strange delight. "Olof I am ... I can say it now...." A tumult of joy rose up in him at her words. He clasped her to him in a fervent embrace, and opened his lips to tell her the secret at last.
Olof glanced at it, and read, hastily scribbled in pencil, these words: "When you get this I shall be far away. I am going and not coming back. I can't stay here. "There what's the meaning of that, if you please?" cried the girl. Olof made no answer. He held the paper in a trembling hand, and read it again and again; a weight seemed lifted from his shoulders.
Olof looked at her blankly he could not guess what was in her mind. He felt himself more and more in the power of something he had been striving to escape. "Oh, don't you understand? Your portrait." "But but I have only one. And I have never given anyone my portrait." "No," said the girl confidently. "You have kept it for me." Olof felt himself shamed. What a poor creature he was grown!
"What then?" cried Olof wildly. "What...." "Yes. Go on. That was only one. Are there no more who have told you the same thing?" "More? My God I could kill you now!" "Do!" She faced him defiantly, and went on with icy calm: "And how many girls are there who can say the same of you?" Olof started as if he had been stabbed.
Just step in, now, and we'll be there...." The cab rumbles away; Olof leans back, feeling himself again. Through a gateway into a cobbled yard. The driver gets down, and Olof follows suit. The man knocks with the handle of his whip at a door. "'Tis no good coming at this time the girls aren't here yet." And the door is slammed in his face. "Drive on, then!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking