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Updated: May 19, 2025
She pleaded earnestly and tenderly. Then, as he balanced between pride and prejudice on one side, and a life of peace and contentment on the other, her persuasive voice made the tendrils of his heart move uneasily. This stone-hearted man wept. So did his daughter. And amidst this flood of tears, father and daughter were reconciled once more. Mr. Rougeant grew rapidly better.
Rougeant had returned early from "the town" on that Saturday afternoon. He was now perusing the Gazette Officielle, the only newspaper which he ever cast his eyes upon. The servant a good old Guernsey soul, who had been in the service of the family for ten years was busily engaged in preparing the dinner. Unluckily for the little girl, Mr.
Rougeant in a voice of thunder, "where are you?" "Miss Rougeant is gone, she told me she would not be long," answered the servant from upstairs. "Oh, yes, always gone," said the father of Adèle, in none too pleasant a tone; "those young girls are always out when most wanted." Then he began to talk about his quarry. "Only a year ago that quarry was being worked.
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