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Updated: May 14, 2025
Sara's answer came simply, minus the mock-modest tag: "A little," or "I'll do my best," which most people seem to think it incumbent on them to add, in the circumstances.
"Do you think she DOESN'T know things?" said Sara, in her stern little voice. Sometimes she had a rather stern little voice. "Sara's mamma knows everything," piped in Lottie. "So does my mamma 'cept Sara is my mamma at Miss Minchin's my other one knows everything. The streets are shining, and there are fields and fields of lilies, and everybody gathers them. Sara tells me when she puts me to bed."
"What is it you wish to know?" "I want to know if you are engaged to Tim Durward." For an instant the colour rushed into Sara's white face; then it ebbed away, leaving it paler than before. "No," she said quietly. "I am not." She lifted her eyes, accusing, passionately reproachful, to his. "How could you even ask me that? Did you ever believe I loved you?" she went on fiercely.
Will Sara never marry if if there were a circumstance like that a really insurmountable obstacle?" "No, I don't believe she will. I don't think she would wish to. If he loves her and she him, spiritually they would be bound to one another lovers. And just the circumstance of his being tied to another woman would make no difference to Sara's point of view.
"No, it isn't Dolly Lee," dryly; "it's Sara Olmstead." The sewing dropped again. "Miss Prue!" "Well, it is, and you needn't speak as if I'd told a falsehood; for I know!" Sara's cheeks had crimsoned warmly, and her voice faltered a little, as she asked, "Did he tell you himself?" "Not in so many words; but I've known it, so has his mother, for a long time.
He wanted to force some of his productions on me, but I would not have them. I was foolish enough to give him a letter to pretty Sara's father, and I told him to write to me at Rome, under cover of the banker Belloni. I set out from Leghorn the next day and went to Pisa, where I stopped two days. There I made the acquaintance of an Englishman, of whom I bought a travelling carriage.
He would not have it said that Sara's father did a whit better by her than he would do. He left everything he possessed to his wife, but put no string to it, blandly implying that all danger would be past when she came into possession. There was a sort of grim humour in the way he managed to present himself to view as the real and ready source of peril.
Anders wanted to rub his leg, but made a mistake and caught hold of Lively Sara's, and made her scream; and this so flustered his hand that it could not find its way up, but went on making mistakes, and there was much laughter and merriment. Karl Johan was not taking much part in the hilarity; he looked as if he were pondering something. Suddenly he roused himself and drew out his purse.
Even the shadow of separation could not dim the glory of the summer that lived in her heart. "But is Emma really coming, Elfreda?" questioned Sara Emerson anxiously. "She wrote us that she would surely be here." Seven eager faces reflected the anxiety in Sara's tones as she made this inquiry. The first day of the Semper Fidelis week of reunion was well on its way toward sunset.
The sleep of age is easily put to flight, and Nani opened her eyes. "Sara ''spridion'!" she said, in astonishment. "Sara Lloyd, I mean, but I was dreaming, Sara dear. What is it?" and she sat up not a little disturbed, for Sara's name alone sufficed to arouse the latent fear of the "hysbis" or occult, always lurking in the Celtic mind.
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