The Hunted Outlaw - or, Donald Morrison, the Canadian Rob Roy by Anonymous
page 27 of 76 (35%)
page 27 of 76 (35%)
|
and by." What by and by meant explained all to Minnie.
We spend years upon the study of character, and the cardinal features often escape us. A dog has but to glance once into a human face. He comprehends goodness in a moment. The ownerless dogs of the village analyzed Minnie's nature, and found it satisfactory. They beamed upon her with looks of wistful love. She had them in the spring and summer for her daily escort to the mountain. That was a testimonial of fine ethical value. "Why, what am I dreaming about?" Minnie exclaimed, after she had sat for about an hour. "Why are my eyes wet? Why do I feel a sadness which I cannot define? Am I not happy? Isn't Donald coming to see me? Will we not be together again? Isn't the sun bright and warm, and our little home cheerful and happy? Fancies, dreams, and forebodings, away with you. I must run home and help mother to make that salad for dinner." The world wants not so much learned, as simple, modest, reverent women, to sweeten and redeem it! CHAPTER XIV. THE BEGINNING OF THE TROUBLE. We will not afflict the reader with all the complexities of a dispute |
|