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Updated: June 19, 2025
Miss Manners and Madame Blandin have been at open war for days. Clotilde is in great glee since the English teacher is going away. Poor forlorn Christal! whither can she go? I must try and save her, before it is too late." ... "I sit down at midnight to inform you of all that has happened this day, that you may at once answer and tell me what further I am to do.
How much of this was to be communicated to Christal she wished Olive to decide: and Olive, remembering what had passed between them on the first night of her coming, advised that, unless Christal herself imperatively demanded to know, there should be maintained on the subject a kindly silence. "Her parents are dead, of that she is persuaded," Olive urged.
Since they came home to Morningside, they had constantly sought at St. Margaret's for news of Christal Manners. Many times Olive had written to her, but no answer came. The silence of the convent walls seemed to fold itself over all revelations of the tortured spirit which had found refuge there. However, Christal had taken no vows. Mrs.
She felt unable to comprehend or realise it, until she came to the name "Christal." Then the whole truth burst upon her, wrapping her round with a cold horror, and, for the time, paralysing all her faculties. When she awoke, the letter was still in her hand, and from it still there stood out clear the name, which had long been a familiar word.
The whole party, including Christal and Lyle, were assembled in the twilight, the two latter keeping up a sort of Benedick and Beatrice warfare. Harold and his mother seemed both very quiet they sat close together, her hand sometimes resting caressingly on his shoulder or his knee. Olive Rothesay sat a little apart, a single lamp lighting her at her work; for she was not idle.
They were quite glad that the next day was Sunday, when they would go to Harbury, and hear Harold Gwynne preach. Olive told her mother all that had passed in the churchyard, and they agreed that he must be a very peculiar, though a very clever man. As for Christal, she had gone off with her friend, Mrs. Fludyer, and did not interfere in the conversation at all. When Sunday morning came, Mrs.
Is it because I have little time to be with you, being so much occupied with my mother, and with my profession?" "Ay, that is it," said Christal, loftily. "My dear Miss Rothesay, I am much obliged to you for all your kindness; but we do not suit one another. I have found that out since I visited at Farnwood Hall.
From that time his letters came frequently and regularly. Passages from them will best show how his work of mercy sped. "Paris, Jan. I have had no difficulty in gaining admittance to the pension, for I chanced to go in Lord Arundale's carriage, and Madame Blandin would receive any one who came under the shadow of an English milord. Christal is there, in the situation she planned.
"Well, now, I suppose you will be wanting to hear the news of all your friends," said Miss Manners, with smiles bubbling round her pretty mouth. "We are not all quite the same as you left us. To begin with let me see Mr. Harold Gwynne" "Of that, Miss Christal, I will beg you not to speak. It is a painful subject to me," observed Mrs. Gwynne, with a vexed air.
He and Lyle went away together, and Christal, who had at last succeeded in apparently involving the light-hearted young collegian within the meshes of her smiles, took consolation in a little quiet drollery with Charley Fludyer; but even this resource failed when Charley spoke of returning home. "I shall not go back with you to-night," said Christal. "I shall stay at the Dell.
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