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Updated: May 7, 2025
The shade on the lamp kept the light from her face; but had Bradford seen it, it would have told him no more of the thoughts beneath it than the stone in the churchyard had told him of Elizabeth Purcill. He watched her turning over the leaves slowly, and thought that her hand trembled a little at the close.
I shut the door softly and left her, and till I slept I heard Miss Eleanor's steps across her chamber-floor. "The day was no better than the night. Miss Purcill did not leave her room, and her cousin wandered about the house, as if her thoughts would not let her rest.
George fought with, lying all curled up in the bottom of the well, with fire and smoke coming out of his mouth." Rosamond Purcill was too true a descendant of old Geoffrey to be frightened at the thought of a dragon. She caught hold of Mark's arm to steady herself, and leaned over the well. "Let me see! let me see!" cried she, eagerly.
Her departure had not brought Eleanor Purcill and Thornton Lee together; for his aunt still remained unwedded, and he came every Sunday to the village church, with a sweet matronly-faced woman on his arm, and two children by his side. Bradford thrust the journal into his pocket, took up his fishing-rod and basket, and sauntered towards the village.
Geoffrey Purcill was a choleric old gentleman, who, having had his own way all his life, was by no means inclined to forego that privilege now that he was advanced in years.
"Elizabeth Purcill was the daughter of your grandfather's brother, and therefore your father's cousin. Long as I have lived in the family, I never saw him; for he went to India, while a young man, to seek a fortune, which was found too late to benefit either himself or his children.
And when old Geoffrey was gathered to his fathers, he left his house and grounds to his only daughter, Eleanor Purcill, on the express condition that the well was not to be filled up, but to remain open till water did come into it.
Wrapped up in his own musings, he started suddenly when Miss Purcill said to him, "Rosamond tells me that you found a book to-day in the old well; what was it?" and answered promptly, "It was Elizabeth Purcill's journal." It was the first time Eleanor had heard the name for years. She showed no signs of emotion. "I should like to see it," said she; "give it to me."
The well should be digged forthwith, and what Geoffrey Purcill once resolved upon he was not slow to execute; and, despite the remonstrances of those who knew better than he, the work was commenced at once.
"Why, Master Bradford, who would have thought of seeing you here at this time?" Bradford smiled. "Whose grave is this that you are taking such pains to clear?" She pointed to the name with her sickle. "Yes, I know all that that can tell me. But who was Elizabeth Purcill? what relation was she to me? and how came she to die so young, and to be buried here?"
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