Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1874-09-12
And glided away with her plump

And glided away with her pluml
hand on Walter Birmingham
l shoulder Gilbert had 10 busines
to be 30 unreasonable!
His grave, stern face rather star
tied her as she came again to the rus
tic seat of twisted boughs, when til,
string-band music was silent, an.
Mr.. Birmingham had gone to brin,
. her a glass of iced lemonade,
"Gilbert! why do yon look 81
cross 7" ... .. ...
"Because | have reason. l an
sorry you pay so little attention t,
my wishes, Miss Penroy I"
She drew herself up haughtily.
"You are beginning to dictate ear
ly STRIP
"Have l not the right y
"Nothing of the sort, Mr.. Ever
ing"
"Be it so, Blanche" he said, in {
voice that betrayed how deep the
arrow ranked in his bosom. 81 give
up the right now and henceforward.'
Blanche was startled. She would
have said more, but Walter Birm.
ingham was advancing towards her
ard when next she had leisure to
look round, Gilbert was gone from
her side.
"What have done 7" she thought
in dismay. "Pll see him this even.
ing and coax him into good humor
once more. He surely can't be vexed
at me for an idle word like that"
All, little Blanche, it is not the
wcll-con sidered sentence that does
all the harm in this world-it is the
idle word
"Such charming day as we have
had, Mrs. Traine," said Blanche,
as she came up the steps of the
hotel piazza, as smiling and radiant
as if the worm, remOrse, was not
gnawing at her heart.
"TAat, of COURSE" said the bloom
ing matron, who was reading in an
easy chair under the shadow of the
vines. "But what sent Mr.. Ever.
ing away in such hurryw
"Sent him away ?"
"Yes-by the evening train. He
come home, packed his things, and
drove away as if there was not
moment to lose. I am very sorry;
we shall miss him so much"
Blanche went slowly upstairs
and sat down by her window, look
ing out at the purple glow of the
evening landscape as if it were
feat ureless blank. SO he was really
gone away; and by her own folly
she had lost the priceless treasure
of Gilbert Evenings love.
"And l cannot even write to him,
for I do not know his address," she
thought, with clasped hands and
fearless eyes. "Well, it is my own
fault, and l must abide the conse-
quences as best l may"
So Blanche Penroy went home
from the gay summer lounging
place sadder and a wiser woman;
and the November mists dropping
over the brick ck-and-mortar wilder
ness of her New York home, had
never seemed half so dreary to her
as they seemed now!
II suppose shall be all old maid,'
thought Blanche, walking up and
down the tire-lit darkness of her
twilight drawing-rooms, with her
dimpled hands clasped behind her
waist. IL never care for any one
now as l cared for-for Gilbert and
l dare say l shall keep a cat, and
grow fond of green tea, and scandal,
and sewing circles All, well-a-day
life cannot last fOreverw
A dreary comfort that for a girl of
nineteen summers.
She rang the bell with an impa-
tient clerk.
"Are there any letters, Sander.
son Z"
"One, ma'an it came by the eve
ming post about five minutes ago.
"Light the gas, then, and give it
to me.'
Blanche sat down by the fl re and
opened the letter suppressing yawn.
"Black edged-and black sealed
So poor Mrs. Marchmont is gone at |
lastw
1t was from the executors of Miss
Penroy's distant cousin, formally
and briefly announcing her death,
which had taken place in one of the
West India Islands some months
since but of which the "melanchOly
news" as the letter ran, had only
inSf boau raaoiuod IL unS not ~,