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Updated: June 15, 2025
"And you love her still?" "I have no right to." "She is married?" "Yes." "Will you tell me about it?" "I I would rather not." Miss De Voe sat quietly for a moment, and then rose. "Dear friend," she said, laying her hand on Peter's shoulder, "we have both missed the great prize in life. Your lot is harder than the one I have told you about.
What do you call it?" "It is the Valley of Voe." "Thank you. We have seen no people since we arrived, so we came to this house to enquire our way." "Are you hungry?" asked the woman's voice. "I could eat something," said Dorothy. "So could I," added Zeb. "But we do not wish to intrude, I assure you," the Wizard hastened to say.
"Of course I'm bound to take it, if you insist. But it won't do any good. Even Miss De Voe has stopped giving now, and I haven't added anything to it for over five years." "Why is that?" "You see, I began by loaning the fund to people who were in trouble, or who could be boosted a little by help, and for three or four years, I found the money went pretty fast.
When told, one day, of the unfavorable whispers, he smiled a little and answered his informant, whom he knew to be one of the whisperers himself, laying a hand kindly upon his shoulder: "Father Murphy," or whatever the name was, "your words comfort me." "How is that?" "Because 'Voe quum benedixerint mihi homines!"
Are we fools, or is Peter a gay deceiver?" "He is the most outspoken man I ever knew," said Miss De Voe. "But he tells nothing," said an usher. "Yes. He is absolutely silent," said a bridesmaid. "Except when he's speechifying," said Ray. "And Leonore says he talks and jokes a great deal," said Watts. "I never knew any one who is deceiving herself so about a man," said Dorothy. "It's terrible.
"I could not go to kirk this morning," she said with an air of apology, "for my bairn is very sick; and I saw Nicol Sinclair go away. It was near the noon hour. Drunk he was, and worse drunk than most men can be. His face was red as a hot peat, and he swayed to and fro like a boat on the Gruting Voe. There was something no' just right about the man."
"Home, Wellington," said Miss De Voe crossly. Peter took his week at Newport on his way back from his regular August visit to his mother. Miss De Voe had told him casually that Dorothy would be there, and Dorothy was there. Yet he saw wonderfully little of her.
Finally he insisted that he must leave when the clock pointed dangerously near eleven. "Mr. Stirling," said Miss De Voe, in a doubtful, "won't-you-please" voice, such as few men had ever heard from her, "I want you to let me send you home? It will only take a moment to have the carriage here." "I wouldn't take a horse out in such weather," said Peter, in a very settling kind of voice.
On that side, looking to the south, there was a view of the voe and the opposite bank, but on all the others the house, a square stone building, was protected by a high wall close to it, built to keep off the biting cold winds and snow of winter.
"Which way are you walking?" asked Miss De Voe. "I have been tramping merely for exercise," said Peter, "and stopped here to try the spring, on my way to the United States." "It is hardly worth while, but if you will get into our carriage, we will drop you there. Or if you can spare the time, we will drive to our cottage, and then send you back to the hotel."
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