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Updated: June 8, 2025
Lucy had been stung twice, to be sure, and Peggy once, while Priscilla's right eye was rapidly closing in testimony to the effectiveness of the dagger thrusts of the vindictive little warriors. But it might easily have been much worse. Claire, who had rushed forward to greet the returning heroines, put her hands before her eyes at the sight of Priscilla's unsymmetrical countenance.
She had, therefore, been anxious enough to trample on Priscilla and upon all the affairs of the Clock House; but yet she had been unable to ignore the nobility of Priscilla's truth, and having acknowledged it to herself she found herself compelled to acknowledge it aloud.
Why, I've even come to a consciousness that perhaps it is best for me to be dead, for back there, back among the living, the thing I once was might assert itself again." The bitterness, the pitiful truthfulness, of Farwell's voice and words sank deep into Priscilla's heart. Out of them she instantly accepted one great, vital fact: he was in Kenmore as a refugee; he had been had done wrong!
But there was a bruiting of the secret among their set; and the one to fall away from her, Nataly marvellingly named Mrs. John Cormyn; whose marriage was of her making. She did not disapprove Priscilla's behaviour. Priscilla had come to her and, protesting affection, had openly stated, that she required time and retirement to recover her proper feelings.
And, I suppose," added Priscilla, as if thinking aloud, "everybody sees it, as I do." But, for my part, it was Priscilla's beauty, not Zenobia's, of which I was thinking at that moment.
"Please let me pass." "I am afraid you are in trouble," he replied then, seeing that Priscilla's mood must be taken seriously. His sympathy gave the poor girl a momentary thrill of comfort. She raised her eyes to his face and spoke huskily. "A dreadful thing has happened to me," she said. The chapel bell stopped as she spoke. Groups of men, all in their caps and gowns, hurried by.
In a minute or two he came back again. "There's Miss Priscilla's boat," he said, "the Blue Wanderer. You're forgetting her." "They'd never venture as far as Inishbawn in her," said Sweeny. "They might then. The wind's east and she'd run out easy enough under the little lug." "They'd have to row back."
"You don't think she came to engage Innocent for some service?" he asked. "Or that Innocent herself had perhaps written to an agency asking for a place, and that this lady had come to see her in consequence?" Such an idea had never occurred to Priscilla's mind, but now it was suggested to her it seemed more than likely. "It might be so," she answered, slowly.
Tears lay heavily on her eyelashes as she dropped asleep, with one arm thrown protectingly round her little sister Katie. A THICK mist lay over everything. Christmas had come and gone, and Priscilla's trunk was packed once more Aunt Raby's old-world jacket between folds of tissue-paper, lying on the top of other homely garments.
"Nor in Aunt Priscilla's," she appended. "Poor little thing! How pretty she is. And what a long journey to take and to come among strangers! Yes, she must go to bed at once." "I'll carry her upstairs," said Warren. "Nonsense!" protested his mother. But he did for all that, and when he laid her on Betty's cold bed she roused and smiled, and suffered herself to be made ready for slumber.
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