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Updated: June 1, 2025
Helen whirling past here tossed a fan into Rachel's lap. "She is very beautiful," Hirst remarked. They were again silent. Rachel was wondering whether he thought her also nice-looking; St. John was considering the immense difficulty of talking to girls who had no experience of life.
And at the top, in the open night, and at all the many corners of a square that is nothing of the kind, from hoarse throat and on fluttering placard, it was "Trial and Verdict," or "Sensational Verdict at the Old Bailey," here as at the other end of the town. But now all Rachel's thoughts were of this mysterious Mr.
Rachel's white face and neck had taken on them the pink transparent color that generally dwelt only in the curves of her small ears. "Why do you think Miss Gresley is ignorant of the life she describes?" she said, addressing the apostle. The author and the apostle both opened their mouths at the same moment, only to register a second triumph of the female tongue. Miss Barker was in her element.
Dorcas's large eyes rested upon her with a grave enquiry, and then Miss Brandon looked down in silence for a while on the carpet, and was thinking a little sternly, maybe, and with a look of pain, still holding Rachel's hand, she said, with a sad sort of reproach in her tone, 'Rachel, dear, you have not told my secret?
That year the spring came early, and they went often together into the country. And that year when all the world was white with blossom the snow came and laid upon earth's bridal veil a white shroud. Every cup of May blossom, every petal of hawthorn, bent beneath its burden of snow. And so it was in the full spring-tide of Rachel's heart. The snow came down upon it.
Bilhah's and Zilpah's sons reflected in their hatred of Rachel's their mothers' envy of the true wife of Jacob's heart. The sons of the bondwoman were sure to hate the sons of the free. If Joseph had been like his brothers, they would have forgiven him his mother.
She conspires with the imagination to complete the ideal of Mary. It is a story told in sad music to which we listen; it is a mournful panorama, unfolding itself scene by scene, upon which we gaze. Lost in soft melancholy, the figures of the drama move before us as in a tragic dream. But after seeing Rachel's Mary we can see no other.
She had no child of her own, and that was the only lack in her life. She made up for it by keeping an open heart to all other children, whereby many gained through her loss, and her loss turned to gain even for herself. When Rachel's boy came she made as much of him as if he had been her own.
Rachel's lips said "hope," but her heart said "danger," and the latter was what she really meant. She did not know that but two hours before, a stranger had said to a Fairtown lawyer: "I want a summer home in this locality. You don't happen to know of a good old treasure of a homestead for sale, do you?" "I do not," replied the lawyer.
So far he had accomplished his object, for he could rely upon his faithful Rachel's performance of her promise; and if the two should be married, he knew how to take care to give her the power of the money, and keep a youth, in whose prudence he had no great faith, in proper check. Next he had to sound the nephew. Nor was it long before he had an opportunity even that same afternoon.
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