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The Abbot's Ghost, or Maurice Treherne's Temptation - A Christmas Story by Louisa May Alcott
page 41 of 96 (42%)

"Then why not think the note for me?" he asked.

"I do now" was the sharp answer.

"But she told you it was for the major, and sent it."

"She deceived me; I am not surprised. I am glad Jasper is safe, and I
wish you a pleasant tete-a-tete."

Bowing with unwonted dignity, Octavia set down her basket, and walked
away in one direction as Mrs. Snowdon approached in another.

"I have done it now," sighed Treherne, turning from the girlish figure
to watch the stately creature who came sweeping toward him with
noiseless grace.

Brilliancy and splendor became Mrs. Snowdon; she enjoyed luxury, and her
beauty made many things becoming which in a plainer woman would have
been out of taste, and absurd. She had wrapped herself in a genuine
Eastern burnous of scarlet, blue, and gold; the hood drawn over her head
framed her fine face in rich hues, and the great gilt tassels shone
against her rippling black hair. She wore it with grace, and the
barbaric splendor of the garment became her well. The fresh air touched
her cheeks with a delicate color; her usually gloomy eyes were brilliant
now, and the smile that parted her lips was full of happiness.

"Welcome, Cleopatra!" cried Treherne, with difficulty repressing a
laugh, as the peacocks screamed and fled before the rustling amplitude
of her drapery.
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