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Updated: June 7, 2025
He thought he remembered the name of Elizabeth Purcill on a head-stone in the church-yard. He opened the little wicket and went in. The setting sun threw the long shadows of the head-stones across the thick, rank grass. The sounds of the village children at play on the green came to his ear softened and mellowed by the distance.
I have turned the handle, the door is locked. No answer comes to me, nothing but the black shadow flitting across the panes. I sat down by the threshold and burst into tears. "Mrs. Bickford found me there. 'Do not grieve so, Miss Elizabeth, said she, kindly. 'It is dreadful, I know; but Miss Purcill walked the floor all night after her father died, and would admit no one to her room.
He had been three years in Africa, and he and your aunt were to be married in the autumn. "When Miss Purcill went away, Mr. Lee remained, and came often to see Miss Elizabeth. She had a winsome face, that few men could look upon and not love; and I sometimes thought, when I saw them together, how much better she was suited to Mr.
Elizabeth, his eldest daughter, was sent home for her education, and lived first with one of her kinsfolk, and then another, as her father's whims or their convenience dictated. You remember, though so young, when your Aunt Eleanor came to your father's house on her way to your Uncle Erasmus in his last illness?" Bradford nodded. "A little before that time Elizabeth Purcill came to Ashcroft.
On a bright April morning many years ago, a stout, red-faced old gentleman, Geoffrey Purcill, followed by several workmen bearing shovels and pick-axes, took his way to a little knoll on which stood a wide-spreading chestnut-tree.
The picture of Hagar, now so full of interest to him, still hung on the wall, and the little desk was at the window which looked out upon the lawn. Should he show the journal to his aunt, or keep it to himself? Would Elizabeth Purcill wish her Cousin Eleanor to read her written words as she once read her untold thoughts?
He turned towards the spot where, year after year, the Purcills had been gathered, those who had died in their beds in their native town, and those who had perished in far-off climes, and whose bones had been brought to moulder by the old church-wall. He found the stone, and, bending down, read, "Elizabeth Purcill, died Oct. 5th, 18 , aged 19."
Bickford, the housekeeper. "'Is any one in the library with Miss Purcill? asked she. "'Yes, a Mr. Lee. "'Mr. Lee? exclaimed she, in surprise. 'I did not know as he was expected home now. "'Who is Mr. Lee? "'He is the gentleman whom Miss Purcill is to marry; but I thought he was not coming till autumn. I wonder if she knew it.
"'I have made the best use of my time, returned he, 'and had no wish to spend my precious hours at a country inn. It seemed good to see winter and snow again, after so many months of summer. "Bending forward to catch a better view of him as he spoke, the rustling of my dress reminded Eleanor of my presence. "'My cousin Elizabeth Purcill, Thornton Lee, said she.
'Miss Purcill would not come down tonight, she was fatigued with her journey. "The good lady strove to entertain me with her conversation, but, finding that I neither heard, answered, nor ate, our meal was soon brought to a close. It is long past midnight. I have thought till I am sick and giddy with thinking. I cannot sleep, and have been writing here to control the wildness of my imaginings.
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