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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Forgive me, my lad," he said, humbly; "for a minute I doubted you." Ross took his hand, but slowly replied: "It will be hard for you to understand, when I tell you that I care a great deal for your daughter, but a man like me an Englishman cannot marry or he ought not to marry to himself alone. There are so many others to consider his friends, his sisters " Wetherford dropped his hand. "I see!"
Abel Pinkham's having said that he thought the country near Wetherford looked well for the time of year, and promised a fair hay crop, and that his income was augmented one half to three fifths by his belief in the future of maple sugar. It was likely to be the great coming crop of the Green Mountain State. Ederton suggested that there was talk of Mr.
"All the better; I'll be on hand to help but they're less likely to boil in on you through a locked door." "But your daughter? It will alarm her." "She'll be in the other house, and, besides, she'd feel easier if you are in my place. She's all wrought up by the attack on you." Ross turned to his prisoners. "Follow Mrs. Wetherford and eyes front!"
He had shaved away his gray beard, and had Ross been unprepared for these changes he would have been puzzled to account for this decidedly military figure sitting statuesquely on his pony before the door. "You can prove an alibi," he called, as he drew near. "Gregg himself would never recognize you now." Wetherford was in no mood for joking. "Lize will.
Nobody knows what starts such a thing in journalism, or keeps it alive after it is started, but on a certain Thursday morning the fact was made known to the world that among the notabilities then in the city, Abel Pinkham, Esquire, a distinguished citizen of Wetherford, Vermont, was visiting New York on important affairs connected with the maple-sugar industry of his native State. Mr.
Wetherford was also moving in deep thought, and at last put his perplexity into a question. "What am I to do? I'm beginning to feel queer. I reckon the chances for my having smallpox are purty fair. Maybe I'd better drop down to Sulphur and report to the authorities. I've got a day or two before the blossoms will begin to show on me." Cavanagh studied him closely.
Furthermore, the loyalty of Eliza to Ross, her bravery in defending him from attack, and the love and courage which enabled her to rise from a sick-bed and go to the mountains, ready and insistent on taking his place as nurse all these were not the traits of a commonplace personality. "I begin to think I've been unjust to Mrs. Wetherford," she admitted to her husband.
Then, as Swenson says, the thieves will roll in upon us to slash, and burn, and corrupt. What a country! What a country!" As he reached the end of this line of despairing thought, he came back to the question of his remaining personal obligations. Wetherford must be cared for, and then and then! there was Virginia waiting for him at this moment.
Setting to work at his task, he threw the loose rock out of a hollow in the ledge near by, and to this rude sepulchre Wetherford dragged the dead man, refusing all aid, and there piled a cairn of rocks above his grave. The ranger was deeply moved by the pitiless contrast of the scene and the drama.
"When I get weak-kneed or careless in the service and feel my self-respect slipping away, I go up to Ross's cabin and talk with a man who represents the impersonal, even-handed justice of the Federal law." Cavanagh laughed. "There! Having handed each other reciprocal bouquets, we can now tell Miss Wetherford the truth.
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