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Updated: June 29, 2025
Ringgan was still busy with his newspaper, Miss Cynthia Gall going in and out on various errands, Fleda shut up in the distant room with the muffins and the smoke; when there came a knock at the door, and Mr. Ringgan's "Come in!" was followed by the entrance of two strangers, young, well-dressed, and comely. They wore the usual badges of seekers after game, but their guns were left outside.
He has no taste for embroidery, or Miss Ringgan's crewels would receive more of his notice he listens to my spirited conversation with a self-possession which invariably deprives me of mine! and his ear is evidently dull to musical sensibilities, or Florence's harp would have greater charms.
He has no taste for embroidery, or Miss Ringgan's crewels would receive more of his notice he listens to my spirited conversation with a self-possession which invariably deprives me of mine! and his ear is evidently dull to musical sensibilities, or Florence's harp would have greater charms.
Ringgan's temper, no man in those days that tried men could have brought to the issue more stern inflexibility and gallant fortitude of bearing. His frame bore evidence of great personal strength, and his eye, with all its mildness, had an unflinching dignity that could never have quailed before danger or duty.
I can't conceive why he didn't ask Miss Ringgan's permission to change her physician, instead of mine." "I suppose he knew there was no doubt about that." said Edith, hitting the precise answer of Fleda's thoughts. "And what should make him think there was any doubt about mine?" said Constance tartly. "O you know," said her sister, "you are so odd nobody can tell what you will take a fancy to."
She had been brought up among the Quakers, and though now and for many years a staunch Presbyterian, she still retained a tincture of the calm efficient gentleness of mind and manner that belongs so inexplicably to them. More womanly sweetness than was in Mr. Ringgan's blue eye a woman need not wish to have; and perhaps his sister's had not so much.
It was plain, however, even to a stranger, that there was some subject of care not vague nor undefined pressing upon Mr. Ringgan's mind as he said this. "Have you heard from my mother lately, Fleda?" said her cousin. "Why yes," said Mr. Ringgan, "she had a letter from her only to-day. You ha'n't read it yet, have you, Fleda?" "No grandpa," said the little girl; "you know I've been busy."
"Did you see him?" said Mrs. Evelyn. "Only at that impracticable distance, Mamma; but I introduced his name afterwards, in my usual happy manner, and I found that Miss Ringgan's cheeks were by no means indifferent to it. I didn't dare go any further." "I am very glad of it. I hope it is so," said Mrs. Evelyn, energetically. "It would be a most excellent match.
Ringgan's giving a dinner-party the disused front parlour was opened and set in order; the women-folks, as he called them, wanting the whole back part of the house for their operations.
"Mamma," said Constance, "if you permit such a thing, I shall hope that memory will be a fingerboard of remorse to you, pointing to Miss Ringgan's pale cheeks." "I shall charge it entirely upon Miss Ringgan's own fingerboard," said Mrs. Evelyn, with her complacently amused face. "Fleda, my dear, shall I request Mr. Olmney to delay his journey for a day or two, my love, till you are stronger?"
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