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Updated: May 8, 2025
That was all Mrs. Lavender would say. By and by, as the spring drew on and the time of the marriage was coming nearer, the important business of taking and furnishing a house for Sheila's reception occupied the attention of the young man from morning till night.
The name here in these Wyoming woods brought a picture as foreign as the artificiality of a drawing-room. "Groton? You ran away?" "Yes, ma'am." Sheila's suspicions were returning forcibly. "I'll have to ask questions, Mr. Hilliard, because it seems so strange what you are now, and your running away and never having been brought back to the East by by whoever it was that sent you to Groton."
Sheila's eyes filled. "It was dreadful to to knock him down the steps!" "Say, if you'd had as much to put up with from Dickie as Poppa's had " "Oh," said Sheila in a tone that welled up as from under a weight, "if I had always lived in Millings, I'd drink myself!" Babe looked red and resentful, but Sheila's voice rushed on. "That saloon is the only interesting and attractive place in town.
Lawford turned his head and saw Sheila's coiled, beautiful hair in the firelight. 'You haven't told Alice? he asked. 'My dear good man, said Mr Bethany, 'of course we haven't. You shall tell her yourself on Monday. What an incredible tradition it will be! But you mustn't worry; you mustn't even think. And no more of these jaunts, eh? That Ferguson business that was too bad.
Then he walked along the thoroughfare, having a look at the houses. At length he came to the number mentioned in Sheila's letter, and he found that there was a brass plate on the door bearing an unfamiliar name. His suspicions were confirmed. He went up the steps and knocked: a small girl answered the summons. "Is Mrs. Lavender living here?" he said.
He was trying to make for himself a future which might mean the control of a greater colony even. If he had wealth, that would be almost a certainty, and he counted Sheila's gold as a guarantee of power. He knew well how great effect could be produced at Westminster and at the Royal Palace by a discreet display of wealth.
The New York-Boston steamers would keep to the inside passage in this gale. Sheila had made all taut and trim inside the cabin. She had plenty of firewood and sufficient provisions to last her for a time. About noon she heard the crunch of footsteps on the sand. It was little John-Ed who first appeared before her eyes. He thrust a letter into Sheila's hand.
He had told Sheila that he would take care of her, but he could not even defend himself. He had told her that he would die to save her any suffering, but, before her, he had writhed and gasped helplessly under the weight of another man's hand, his open hand, not even a fist.... No after act of his could efface from Sheila's memory that picture of his ignominy.
Also she felt that Dyck should know the facts before any one else, so that he would not be shocked in the future, if anything happened. Yet in her deepest heart she wished him well. She liked him as she had never liked any of Sheila's admirers, and if the problem of Erris Boyne had been solved, she would gladly have seen him wedded to Sheila. "What has the governor to do with it!" he declared.
He has no children and no family; his health is failing." She seemed able to get no further. "Well, what is it, mother?" asked Sheila again. For an instant Mrs. Llyn hesitated; then she put the letter into Sheila's hands. "Read it, my child," she said. "It's for you as much as for me indeed, more for you than for me." Sheila took the letter.
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