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Updated: June 23, 2025
The Scollard was well known to be half-crazed with a passion for Rhona Boswell, who was the fiancée of that cousin of mine, Percy Aylwin, before mentioned. Percy was considered to be a hopelessly erratic character. Much against the wish of his parents, he had been brought up as a sailor; but on seeing Rhona Boswell he promptly fell in love with her, and quitted the sea in order to be near her.
And if I allude here to the fact of my being a painter, it is in order that I may not be mistaken for another Aylwin. my cousin Percy, who in some unpublished poems of his which I have seen has told how a sailor was turned into a poet by love love of Rhona Boswell.
Rhona swallowed a dull sob. "I haven't any we're on strike." Millie jumped up. "What, you one of them shirtwaist strikers?" "Yes." "Why did they run you in?" "An officer struck me, and then said I struck him." "Just like a man! Oh, I know men! Depend upon it, I know the men! So, you were a shirt-waist-maker. How much d'yer earn?" "Oh, about five or six a week." "A week!" Millie whistled.
You shall go to the workhouse on Blackwells Island for five days. Next!" Joe, too, was dazed. But he whispered to Rhona: "Meet it bravely. I'll tell the girls!" Her arm was grasped, she was pushed, without volition, through crowding faces; and at length, after another ride in the patrol wagon, she found herself on a narrow cot in a narrow cell. The door was slammed shut ominously.
On either side of her stand the awakened angels, uplifting from her face a veil whose folds flow soft as water over her shoulders and over the wings of Faith and Love. A symbol of the true cosmogony which Philip Aylwin gave to the world! 'Why, that's esackly like the wreath o' seaweeds as poor Winnie Wynne used to make, said Rhona Boswell. 'The photograph of Raxton Fair! I cried.
French workmen had swept and garnished the dusty, dingy place and transformed it into a theater as dainty and pretty as Madame de Rhona herself. Dancing was Madame's strong point, but she had been very successful as an actress too, first in Paris and Petersburg, and then in London at the St. James's and Drury Lane. What made her go into management on her own account I don't know.
They came up; Joe spoke in a low breath. "Rhona, have you seen the lawyer about?" "No," she muttered. Joe looked around. He stood above that crowd by half a head. Then he muttered bitterly to Myra: "Why isn't that fellow here to-night? You shouldn't have let me sleep!" Myra was abashed, and Rhona, divining his misery, felt quite alone again, quite helpless.
This other was a woman of possibly thirty years, with sallow cheeks, bright burning eyes, and straggly hair. She stood before the little wall mirror, apparently examining herself. Suddenly she turned: "What you looking at, kid?" Rhona averted her eyes. "I didn't mean " "Say," said the other, "ain't I the awful thing? Not a rat or a puff or a dab of rouge allowed in these here premises.
If one could imagine a strain of merriment and fun blending with the ecstatic notes of a skylark soaring and singing, one might form some idea of the laugh of Rhona Boswell. Ah, what days they were! Rhona would come from Gypsy Dell, a romantic place in Rington Manor some miles off, especially to show us some newly devised coronet of flowers that she had been weaving for herself.
The I idea of a veiled lady had, as I say, fascinated me. One Raxton fair-day I induced Winnie to be photographed on the sands, wearing a crown of sea-flowers in imitation of Rhona Boswell's famous wild-flower coronet, and a necklace of seaweed, with Frank and another boy lifting from her head a long white veil of my mother's.
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