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Knowing Jethro as she did, she felt that it would be useless, and she could not bear to make it in vain; if the memory of that evening in the tannery shed would not serve, nothing would serve. And again he had gone to avenge her. It was inevitable that she should hear tidings from the capital. Isaac Worthington's own town was ringing with it.
It gives you an iron hold upon her. She will undoubtedly be advised to let our Western friends escort Mr. Worthington's body on to Detroit. There, of course, she will be met by the family lawyers. "After the necessary preliminaries there, one of them will escort her on here and I will be within reach. She evidently wishes to have the affair of the marriage made public, some time later.
Worthington's going to stay for supper, Papa," said Susan, entering. "Good!" cried Mr. Merrill. "Capital! You won't miss the old folks after supper, will you, girls? Your mother wants me to go to a whist party." "It can't be helped, Carry," said Mr. Merrill to his wife, as they walked up the hill to a neighbor's that evening. "He's in love with Cynthia," said Mrs.
While she was sitting there Mrs. Worthington joined her, and a moment after a letter was brought in from 'Lina, containing on the corner, "In haste." Mrs. Worthington's eyesight had always been poor, and latterly it was greatly impaired, making glasses indispensable. Unfortunately, she had that very morning broken one of the eyes, and consequently could not use them at all.
Worthington's side, a very graphic account of the conflict which was to tear the state asunder. The railroads were tired of paying toll to the chief of a band of thieves and cutthroats, to a man who had long throttled the state which had nourished him, to in short, to Jethro Bass. Miss Sadler was not much interested in the figures and metaphors of political compositions.
Cynthia was asking herself whether, if Mr. Browne had not seen fit to give a good report of her, he would have come at all. He would have come, certainly. It is to be hoped that Bob Worthington's attitude up to this time toward Cynthia has been sufficiently defined by his conversation and actions. There had been nothing serious about it. But there can be no question that Mr.
Cynthia did not answer that, for she remembered how she, too, had exulted when she had believed him to have accomplished Isaac Worthington's downfall. Now that he had failed, and she was in his arms, it was not for her to judge only to rejoice. "Didn't look for you to come back didn't expect it." "Uncle Jethro!" she faltered. Love for her had made him go, and she would not say that, either.
Consolidation had a terror for the rural mind, and the state Tribune skilfully played its stream upon the constituents of those gentlemen who stood tamely at the Worthington hitching-posts, and the constituents flocked to the capital; that able newspaper, too, found space to return, with interest, the attacks of Mr. Worthington's organ, the Newcastle Guardian.
This was because of a pain around his heart had she known it. He had felt that pain before. "H-how do they treat you, Cynthy?" She hesitated. She had not yet learned to use the word patronize in the social sense, and she was at a loss to describe the attitude of Mrs. Duncan and her daughter, though her instinct had registered it. She was at a loss to account for Mr. Worthington's attitude, too.
"This is Miss Johnson," and the waiter bowed toward the musician, who, quick as thought, seized upon the truth, and springing to Mrs. Worthington's side, exclaimed: "It's Mrs. Worthington, I know, my mother's early friend. Why did you sit here so long without speaking to me?
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