Covering her eyes with her hands the
tears trickled through her fingers, falling not so much for Arthur
St. Claire as for the plaintive singing girl shrouded in so dark a
mystery. Drying her eyes she looked again across the meadow, but
the blinds of the Den were closed, and only the moonbeams fell
where the blaze of the lamp had been.
A week went by, and though Grace came twice to Collingwood, while
Victor feigned several errands to Grassy Spring, nothing was known
of the stranger. Grace evidently had no suspicion of her
existence, while Victor declared there was no trace of a white
woman any where about the premises. Mr. St. Claire, he said, sat
in the library, his feet crossed in a chair and his hands on top
of his head as if in a brown study, while Aunt Phillis appeared
far more impatient than usual and had intimated to him plainly
that "in her 'pinion white niggers had better be at home tendin'
to thar own business, of they had any, and not pryin' into thar
neighbor's affairs."
At last Edith was surprised at receiving a note from Arthur,
saying he was ready to resume their lessons at any time.
Pages:
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198