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Updated: June 4, 2025
I recollected her in a moment as a familiar face some laundress or auxiliary of the Sloman family in some way; and she seemed to recognize me as well: "Why! it's Mr. Munro! Walk in, sir, and sit down," dusting off a chair with her apron as she spoke. "Miss Stewart where is she? You know." "Miss Stewart?" said the woman, sinking down into a chair and looking greatly disturbed.
You see, Miss' Sloman had jined a party that was goin' to Minnesota while she was in Philadelfy, that was and Miss Stewart she wasn't goin'. She reckoned she'd spend the winter here in the house. Miss' Sloman's maid that's Mary was goin' with her to the West, and I was to hire my sister-in-law to take charge of things here, so that Miss Bessie could have her mind free-like to come and go.
Sloman smiled a white-lipped smile of sympathy, and said, "Yes; I will go and send her to you." "Oh, don't hurry her," I said falsely, hoping, however, that she would. Did I say before that Bessie was tall?
Why should I be glad?" "Are you sorry, then?" If I had but followed my impulse then, and said frankly that I was, and why I was! But Mrs. Sloman was coming through the little hall: I heard her step. Small time for explanation, no time for reproaches. And I could not leave Bessie, on that morning of all others, hurt or angry, or only half convinced.
Sloman too, but no answer. Then I bethought me of Judge Hubbard, but received in reply a note from one of his sons, stating that his father was in Florida that he had communicated with him, but regretted that he was unable to give me Miss Stewart's present address. Why did I not seek Fanny Meyrick? She must have come to London long since, and surely the girls were in correspondence.
The elder lady seemed delicate, and the young lady quite anxious that she should stay here to-night and go on in the morning. But no, she would go on to-night." I took the midnight train for Philadelphia. They would surely not go farther to-night if Mrs. Sloman seemed such an invalid. I scanned every hotel-book in vain.
Apparently the scrutiny was satisfactory, for he took out a little black book from his pocket, and turning over the leaves, said, "Certainly, here it is No. 30 Elm street, West Philadelphia." Over the river, then, again: no wonder I had not seen them in the Sunday's search. "I will take you over," said Dr. R , replacing the book in his pocket again. "Mrs. Sloman is on my list.
But I was away, striding over the cabbage-patch and climbing the worm-fence that shut in the estate of Hiram. Some wretched mistake: the woman does not know what she's talking about. These Splinters! they seem to have had some communication with Mrs. Sloman: they will know. Mrs. Splinter, a neat, bright-eyed woman of about twenty-five, opened the door at my somewhat peremptory knock.
"No," I said, closing the discussion after an old fashion of the Sloman cottage, "not until we two walk together to the Ledge to-morrow, my little wife and I." "Where's a card your card, Charlie? It would be more proper-like, as Mrs. Splinter would say, for you to write it." "I will try," I said, taking out a card-case from my breast-pocket.
Why did she look so hot and scornful? I was disturbed and anxious: what was there in the book or in me to anger her? As quickly as possible I drew her away from the bustling crowd when the service was concluded. Fortunately, there was a side-door through which we could pass out into the quiet churchyard, and we vanished through it, leaving Mrs. Sloman far behind.
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