Fugen eBooks

While
Mrs. Kemble busied herself here and there, Helen kindled a fire on
the hearth of the sitting-room and sat down in the low chair which
she knew was designed for her. The belief that she would occupy it
daily and be at home, happy herself and, better far, making
another, to whom she owed so much, happy beyond even his fondest
hope, brought smiles to her face as she watched the flickering
blaze.
"Yes," she murmured, "I can make him happier even than he dreams.
I know him so well, his tastes, his habits, what he most enjoys,
that it will be an easy task to anticipate his wishes and enrich
his life. Then he has been such a faithful, devoted friend! He
shall learn that his example had not been lost on me."
At this moment the wind rose in such a long mournful, human-like
sigh about the house that she started up and almost shuddered.
When the evening mail came and brought no letter, she found it
hard indeed not to yield to deep depression. In vain her father
reasoned with her. "I know all you say sounds true to the ear,"
she said, "but not to my heart.


Pages:
180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204