United States or Italy ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"My dearest child," she says, earnestly, "I don't want you to get too intimate with the young Rothwells. I am sure they are not such companions as your own heart would approve of." "Why, no, mamma, I can't say I admire the way in which they have been brought up." "Admire it! Oh! Mary, this is one of the crying sins of the day.
It was a lovely morning in the September after the juvenile party, one of those mornings which combine the glow of summer with the richness of autumn. A picnic had been arranged to a celebrated hill about ten miles distant from Hopeworth. The Rothwells had been the originators, and had pressed Mary Franklin to join the party. Mrs Franklin had at first declined for her daughter.
Not many minutes, however, were given to the guests for observation, for Mr Tankardew soon appeared in evening costume, accompanied by the young stranger who had taken refuge on the night of the storm in Samuel Hodges' farm kitchen. Mr Tankardew introduced him to the Rothwells as Mr John Randolph, an old-young friend.
There was a slight expression of surprise on every face, and of something like scorn or contempt on the Rothwells'. However, both the young ladies at "The Firs" and Mrs Franklin expressed their wish to engage Mr Randolph's services, and so it was arranged. Music certainly flourished at "The Firs" and "The Shrubbery" under the able instructions of Mr John Randolph.
You could tell that, whatever she might have lost, she had gained grace a glow from the Better Land gave her a heavenly cheerfulness. And Mary she had all her mother's sweetness without the shadow from past sorrows, and her laugh was as bright and joyous as the sunlit ripple on a lake in summer time. The Rothwells and Franklins, as old friends, exchanged a hearty but whispered greeting.
That he had a special object in doing this they felt assured; what that object was they could not divine. Had Mrs Franklin known that the Rothwells had been asked, she would have declined the invitation; but she was unaware of this till she had agreed to go; it was then too late to draw back.
A candle twinkled still in the cottage of Mrs Forbes, for there was work to be sent home early on the morrow, and neither lateness nor weariness might suspend their anxious toil. Lame Sally and her mother had been talking over, what was in everyone's mouth and thoughts, the sad downfall of the Rothwells.
All the guests were very punctual on the appointed evening, curiosity having acted as a stimulant with the Rothwells of a more wholesome kind than they were in the habit of imbibing. What a change!
October was drawing to its close: nothing had been heard of the Rothwells, and their old dwelling was now occupied by another tenant. John Randolph's visits to "The Shrubbery" began to be more frequent, and were certainly not unacceptable.
Word Of The Day