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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Uncle Win," Doris said the next morning, "there is a page in my letter I would like you to read. And do you think I might go home with Eudora and take dinner at Madam Royall's? Cary sent them some messages." "Yes, child," he made answer. They were indeed very glad, but like Betty they could not help wishing he had been on the famous Constitution.
It wasn't the temptations of Starkfield that had been Mr. Royall's undoing; it was the thought of losing her. He was a dreadfully "lonesome" man; she had made that out because she was so "lonesome" herself.
He had not appeared to care much for Doris at first, and she was rather shy. Latterly they had become quite friends. But it seemed to Doris that he was so much gayer and brighter at Madam Royall's, where he certainly was a great favorite. Miss Alice was very brilliant and charming. They were always having hosts of company. Mr. and Mrs. Winslow were at the head of one circle in society.
He went on, explaining in somewhat technical language how the little colony of squatters had contrived to keep the law at bay, and Charity, with burning eagerness, awaited young Harney's comment; but the young man seemed more concerned to hear Mr. Royall's views than to express his own. "I suppose you've never been up there yourself?" he presently asked. "Yes, I have," said Mr.
She was awakened by a rattling at her door and jumped out of bed. She heard Mr. Royall's voice, low and peremptory, and opened the door, fearing an accident. No other thought had occurred to her; but when she saw him in the doorway, a ray from the autumn moon falling on his discomposed face, she understood.
Harney laughed: "Well as much as it's anybody's. I come here to sketch occasionally." "And to receive Miss Royall's visits?" "When she does me the honour " "Is this the home you propose to bring her to when you get married?" There was an immense and oppressive silence. Charity, quivering with anger, started forward, and then stood silent, too humbled for speech.
"It will be for next time," he added; and picking up the volume he had laid on the desk he handed it to her. "By the way, a little air and sun would do this good; it's rather valuable." He gave her a nod and smile, and passed out. The hours of the Hatchard Memorial librarian were from three to five; and Charity Royall's sense of duty usually kept her at her desk until nearly half-past four.
She turned her eyes away from him and looked at Charity. "You're the girl from Royall's, ain't you?" The colour rose in Charity's face. "I'm Charity Royall," she said, as if asserting her right to the name in the very place where it might have been most open to question. The woman did not seem to notice.
She could no longer believe that she was the being who had lived them; she was someone to whom something irreparable and overwhelming had happened, but the traces of the steps leading up to it had almost vanished. When the train reached Nettleton and she walked out into the square at Mr. Royall's side the sense of unreality grew more overpowering.
Royall's injunction to go out and buy all she needed. She looked down at her shabby dress, and wondered what she should say when he saw her coming back empty-handed. As she drew near the hotel she saw him waiting on the doorstep, and her heart began to beat with apprehension.
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