Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 7, 2025
Then had come Judge Whittredge's illness, the trouble about the Gilpin will, and the cruel slander that had crushed her father. The brief letter with which she returned Allan's letters and ring, was the result of her bitter resentment and grief. In her sorrow over her father's death she told herself her love was dead, and for a time she believed it. Now she knew it was not so.
She knew as well as anybody that it must be lonely in the Whittredge house; and so she had thought of the tea party. The interest felt in Patterson Whittredge's daughter was very general. Patterson belonged to those old times when peace had reigned in Friendship. He had been a favorite in the village, and to many it seemed only the other day that he had gone away.
Judge Whittredge's whitening head and heavy step, his fruitless search for health abroad, his return to die at last in his old home, Patterson's coming, sent for by his heart-broken mother, this was the rest of the story. But before this family difference had been settled by the stern hand of death, the removal of Thomas Gilpin had precipitated another quarrel upon the town.
Whittredge's glance often rested upon her granddaughter with a sort of wistful affection, and once, when their eyes met, Rosalind, with a quick impulse, had gone to her side and put her arms around her. Mrs. Whittredge returned the caress, saying, "I shall be sorry to give you up, dearie."
It was incredible that this tall girl seen walking by Mrs. Whittredge's side could be his daughter. There were those like Mrs. Graham's pupils, who were inclined to invest her with a halo of romance; others criticised her as not at all the Whittredge style, not what one had a right to expect in Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter. Some pitied Mrs.
Whittredge's granddaughter, and her name is Rosalind, so now!" Privately, Katherine thought her brother's power of finding things out, little short of supernatural. "Don't you want to see her?" she asked meekly. "There is a thin place in the hedge behind the calycanthus bush, and she is walking to and fro studying something." Would Maurice declare he had already seen this girl?
Whittredge did not refuse it; but her own was very cold in Celia's clasp. Drawing her veil over her face, without another word she left the house. Celia sat still, dazed by the sudden onward sweep of things. A meaning, a possible motive, beneath Mrs. Whittredge's words occurred to her as her heart began to beat more quietly. "To interfere with no one's happiness hereafter."
His deafness had quickened his insight. A girl's lovely face on Pat's dressing-table, seen when he replaced a broken caster, partly told the story, and Mrs. Whittredge's pride and determination were no secret to any one.
Ah, but that was long ago, and it was hard to forget that Rosalind, with her sweet, serious eyes, was after all Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, Genevieve's niece. "I wish she wasn't, and that I could see her and speak to her, and ask her what she means by the Forest," she thought. "She is gentle and sweet; she is not like the Whittredges. Why should I dislike her because she belongs to them?
It was a relief to know that it would soon be in Allan Whittredge's hands. That he would do the kindest, wisest thing, she never thought of doubting. She had heard with a sinking of heart that he had gone away, and she scorned herself for the sensation of relief when Belle added, it was only for a few days.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking