(Reading time: 12 - 23 minutes)
The Mountain Girl
The Mountain Girl

wound through a dense wood, with green open spaces interspersed, where deer were browsing. All was very beautiful and quiet and sweet, but Cassandra, sitting with wide-open eyes, gravely beautiful, did not see it.

  

To the girl everything was delightful. She had not the slightest doubt that the American lady was very rich. That she travelled so simply and alone was nothing. They all did queer things—the Americans. She was obtusely unconscious that she had been speaking slightingly of them to one of themselves, and she talked on after the romantic manner of girls the world over, giving the gossip of the inn parlors as she listened to it evening after evening, where the affairs of the nobility were freely discussed and enlarged and commented upon with eager interest.

  

What was spoken in her ladyship's chamber and Lady Laura's boudoir—their half-formed plans and aspirations—carelessly dropped words and unfinished sentences—quickly travelled to the housekeeper's parlor—to the servant's table—to the haunts of grooms and stable boys—to the farmer's daughters—and to the public rooms of the Queensderry Inn.

  

Thus it was Cassandra heard tales of the brother and sister and mother of her David, and of him also. How it was said that once he was engaged to a rich tradesman's daughter but had broken it off and gone to America against the wishes of all his family, and had become a common practitioner there to the disgust of all his relatives; and again Cassandra felt that she had left a sweet and lovely world behind her to step into "Vanity Fair."

No comments

Leave your comment

In reply to Some User

Copyright © 2009 - 2024 Chillzee.in. All Rights Reserved.