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

  

She tried to hold fast her faith in goodness and high purpose. She was sure—sure—David had been moved by noble motives; why should she not trust him now? Did this girl know him better than she—his wife? Yet, in spite of her valiant spirit, two facts fell like leaden weights upon her heart. David had not told his people that he had a wife, and they would be offended that he had "tied himself to a common sort over there." This David whom she loved was so high above her in the eyes of all his relatives and perhaps even in his own. What—ah, what could she do! Might she still hold him in her heart? She could not walk in upon them now and betray him—never—never.

  

Her lips grew pale, and her head swam, but she sat still, leaning a little forward in the moving phaeton, her hands tightly clasped in her lap and her babe unheeded at her side, until the red returned to her lips and again burned in a clearly defined spot against the pallor of her cheek. She did not know that a strange, unearthly beauty was hers. A carriage met them filled with gay people. She did not notice them, but they gazed at her and turned to look again as they passed.

  

"I say, you know!" said one of the men, as they whirled by.

  

"There, that was Lady Geraldine Temple in that carriage, and the young man who stared so hard is her son. They've been paying a visit, or maybe they've brought Lady Clara to stay a bit. They say both families are keen for the match—and why shouldn't they be? Oh, they'll entertain the king here some day, and then there'll be high times at Daneshead!"

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