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Updated: May 18, 2025
They both ought to have known better than to go at all. Alix was fifteen years old when that happened, and Davy was going to college in the winter time." "Did your son live here in the house with you all those years?" inquired Courtney. "We lived in the first cottage down the lane from here. Mr. Windom was a very thoughtful man.
"My dear sir," he said, "this is all very premature. You must wait for the child to grow up before imbuing her mind with thoughts beyond her years." "'My dear Dr. Anderson, had pleaded the adroit Windom, 'I will wait indefinitely, and submit to any conditions that you and Miss Rita impose.
Bills were introduced from Congress to Congress and laid aside; some investigations were made as, for instance, the Windom investigation by a select committee of the House in 1873 but it all came to naught. It seemed that no one man, either in the Senate or House, had made it his business to secure the passage of such an act.
Close it up after you have placed me there and cover it with great rocks, so that Edward and I may never be disturbed. I want no headstone, no epitaph. Just the stones as they were hewn by God." David Windom promised. He was alone in the room with her when she died. Twenty years passed. Windom came at last to the end of his days. He had fulfilled his promises to Alix.
The whole district was the better for her once hateful innovations, and there was no one left who scoffed at David Windom for the choice he had made of a wife. Her death wrought a remarkable, enduring change in Windom. He became a silent, brooding man who rarely smiled and whose heart lay up in the little graveyard on the ridge.
"Everybody used to say old David Windom was doing his best to make a match of it," interrupted Mrs. Pollock, who had been out of the conversation longer than she liked. "Up to the time the old man died, we used to take it for granted that some day they would get married, but, my goodness, it's like waving a red flag at a bull to even mention his name to Alix now.
She adored the grim, silent man who was her father, and she was the breath of life to him. And then, when she was nineteen, she broke the heart of David Windom. For two years she had been a student in the University situated but half a score of miles from the place where she was born, a co-educational institution of considerable size and importance. Windom did not believe in women's colleges.
"A dirty trick, eh?" said the young man, fixing his gaze on the blue-black summit of the forbidden rock. David Windom's daughter Alix ran away with and married Edward Crown in the spring of 1894. Windom was one of the most prosperous farmers in the county.
She had followed him to the top of Quill's Window, she had witnessed the ghastly interment, and she had whispered a prayer for the boy who was gone. The next day her baby was born and that night she died. Coming out of a stupor just before death claimed her, she said to David Windom: "I am going to Edward. I do not forgive you, father. You must not ask that of me.
"I'll explain it all to you, Miss Rita," began Graham's deep voice, as he advanced from a recess. "Oh, the powers! are you here?" and she started back and looked at him with dismay. "Yes," said he, "and I merely wished to explain that my friend Windom was in the cavalry, and from much fighting with your brave, impetuous hard-riders we gradually fell into their habits."
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