United States or Costa Rica ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Guess I do," said he, energetically, and she led him into the garden, pointing out with pride the rows of sweet peas and pansies, which she had made herself. Impelled by a strange curiosity, William Wetherell went to the door and watched them. "Hain't lonely here, Cynthy hain't lonely here?" he said. "Not in the country," said Cynthia. Suddenly she lifted her eyes to his with a questioning look.
Another story from "Elizabeth Wetherell" is a welcome addition to our scanty stock of American, novels. Our real American novels may be counted on our fingers, while the tales that claim the name may be weighed by the ton. At the present time, we count Hawthorne among our novelists, and Mrs.
This roused the storekeeper to a burst of protest, but he stemmed it. "Hain't got the money, have you?" "No but " "If I needed money, d'ye suppose I'd bought the mortgage?" "No," answered the still bewildered Wetherell, "of course not." There he stuck, that other suspicion of political coercion suddenly rising uppermost. Could this be what the man meant?
She knew that Jethro had never ceased to reproach himself for inviting Wetherell to the capital, and she was sure that something had happened there which had disturbed her father and brought on that fearful apathy. But the apathy was dispelled now, and she shrank from giving Jethro pain by mentioning the fact.
He loves her as his own child." William Wetherell, his faith in Jethro restored, was facing death as he had never faced life. Mr. Merrill was greatly affected. "You must not speak of dying, Wetherell," said he, brokenly. "Will you forgive me?" "There is nothing to forgive, now that you have explained matters, Mr. Merrill" said the storekeeper, and he smiled again.
Suddenly he stuck his hand into the bosom of his blue coat, and his face lighted and even gushed as he drew out a crumpled letter. "It don't take much gumption to run a store, does it, William? Guess you could run a store, couldn't you?" "I would try anything," said Wetherell. "Well," said Ephraim' "there's the store at Coniston. With folks goin' West, and all that, nobody seems to want it much."
"Dad's." "She's Will Wetherell's daughter," said Lem Hallowell. "He's took on the store. Will," he added, turning to Wetherell, "let me make you acquainted with Jethro Bass." Jethro rose slowly, and towered above Wetherell on the stoop. There was an inscrutable look in his black eyes, as of one who sees without being seen. Did he know who William Wetherell was?
She would have liked to have added that William Wetherell would have been a great man if he had had health, but she found it difficult to give out confidences, especially when they were in the nature of surmises. "Well," said Janet, stoutly, "I think that is more like a story than ever.
There were but a few people on the platform, but the first face she saw as she stepped from the car was Lem Hallowell's. It was a very red face, as we know, and its owner was standing in front of the Coniston stage, on runners now. He stared at her for an instant, and no wonder, and then he ran forward with outstretched hands. "Cynthy Cynthy Wetherell!" he cried. "Great Godfrey!"
It had been one of the delights of Louis XI to contemplate the movements of a certain churchman whom he had had put in a cage, and some inkling of the pleasure to be derived from this pastime of tyrants dawned on Wetherell. Perhaps the judge, too, thought of this as he looked at "Quentin Durward" on the table.
Word Of The Day