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Updated: May 5, 2025
"The Living Lamp of Lothian, which from Winton, has so long shed its beneficent lustre, has been extinguished, but not so will be lost the memory of the gifted lady, for by not a few will still be cherished the recollection of her noble nature, and of her Christian life." Lady Ruthven prized the picture referred to.
And, in her uncle's estimation, at least, she, Virginia Carteret, would figure as the Delilah triumphant. She rose, tingling to her finger-tips with the shame of it, went to her state-room, and found her writing materials. In such a crisis her methods could be as direct as a man's. Winton was coming again that evening. He must be stopped and sent about his business.
Then, for the Reverend William's benefit: "Winton deserves all sorts of a snubbing for taking liberties with your portrait. I'll see he gets more when he comes back." Here the matter rested; and, having done what she conceived to be her charitable duty, Virginia was as anxious to get away as heart the heart of a slightly bored Reverend Billy, for instance could wish.
I was right young Winton came back, looking more like a wreck than ever, and he took just what I offered him, which was a little less than my first price. And I made him sign a paper waiving all future claims on the patents or the stockholders of the firm. That little invention made all our money.
We also met a man named Bob Allen, who had been located in the neighbourhood for two years or more. Allen was an ex-sergeant of police, who left Aramac about 1875 to start a store and public house on what is known as the Pelican Hole, one mile west of the site of Winton. Very heavy rains fell in 1876, and we were told he was compelled by floods to remain two days on the wall-plate of his building.
The only ones awake on the Warrenia were those whose duties required them to be alert, and Captain Winton, knowing that General Bambos was absent, held the whistle mute as he went by. If the yacht Warrenia and its crew and passengers had been called upon to pass through a series of stirring incidents while in tropical America, a rare and most gratifying experience now came to them.
He played without accompaniment a little tune that seemed to twitch the heart. When he finished, this time she did not look up, but was conscious that he gave one impatient bow and walked off. That evening at dinner she said to Winton: "I heard a violinist to-day, Dad, the most wonderful playing Gustav Fiorsen. Is that Swedish, do you think or what?" Winton answered: "Very likely.
Her smiling face had in it a kind of warning closeness. She went up to Fiorsen, and holding out her hand, said calmly: "How nice of you to come!" Winton had the bitter feeling that he he was the outsider. Well, he would speak plainly; there had been too much underhand doing. "Mr. Fiorsen has done us the honour to wish to marry you. I've told him that you decide such things for yourself.
When he had found Winton at the shale-slide, and had given him Miss Carteret's mandate, the Reverend Billy did not return directly to the Rosemary. On the contrary, he extended his tramp westward, stumbling on aimlessly up the canyon over the unsurfaced embankment of the new line. Truth to tell, Virginia's messenger was not unwilling to spend a little time alone with the immensities.
Winton bit his lips and turned from the wall. The thought of that fellow was bitter within him. She meant to tell him nothing, meant to keep up that lighthearted look which didn't deceive him a bit! "Look at my crocuses! It's really spring today!" It was. Even a bee or two had come. The tiny leaves had a transparent look, too thin as yet to keep the sunlight from passing through them.
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