The Hunted Outlaw - or, Donald Morrison, the Canadian Rob Roy by Anonymous
page 23 of 76 (30%)
page 23 of 76 (30%)
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CHAPTER XII. MODEST, SIMPLE, SWEET. Minnie is in her new home in Springfield. Springfield is a village set at the base of a series of hills, which it is an article of faith to call mountains. They are not on the map, but that matters little. We ought to be thankful that the dullness of the guide-book makers and topographists has still left us here and there serene bits of nature. Springfield had a church, and a school, and a post office, and a tavern. It was a scattered sort of place, and a week of it would have proved the death of a city lady, accustomed to life only as it glows with color, or sparkles with the champagne of passion. Minnie had never seen a city. She was content that her days should be spent close to the calm heart of nature. She felt the parting with old friends at Lake Megantic keenly. She murmured "farewell" to the woods in accents choked with tears. All the associations of childhood, and the more vivid and precious associations of her early womanhood, crowded upon her that last day. Donald occupied the chief place in her thoughts. He was far away. Should they ever meet again? Should their sweet companionships ever be renewed? The cares of her new home won her back to content. Minnie's mother was feeble, and required careful nursing. Her own early life had been darkened by hardships. When a young girl she had often |
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