A Girl of VirginiaThruston, Lucy M. (Lucy Meacham)
General
A Girl of Virginia
Thruston, Lucy M. (Lucy Meacham)
Virginia -- Fiction
But it was the professor's own deep rooted belief. He listened
delightedly as his young guest went on to speak of the farm he had
bought and what he hoped to make of it. The old Northrup estate, some
three miles out from Charlottesville, was a well known one throughout
all Albemarle. A big brick house on the sunny slope of a mountain whose
crest towered to the sky-line behind it, it had held many people, loved
and known in the state, and had been the centre of a gay full life. But
the old life had drifted away from it; some of those who had lived in
the brick walls slept in the graves under the thick oaks not far away
from the house; the rest were scattered, north, south, and west. The
place had gotten into the hands of speculators. A northern farmer,
thinking to make his fortune on cheap lands in a sunny climate, had
bought it, but to face labor conditions of which he was ignorant and to
find the only hopes of the fortune he sought were in a country store. He
had nearly lost his life fording one of the mountain streams, between
store and farm, after a freshet, and was desperately afraid of a second
adventure. He sold it for nearly half its cost. Montague's investment
had a good beginning and a better promise.
The professor kept him talking of it to the last moment he dared keep
away from the lecture hall. "Come and see us," he urged when he was at
last compelled to go. "It's going to be lonesome out there"--the estate
was away from the beaten track--"come and take dinner with us, Sunday?"
Edward, glancing at Frances' bright face, thanked him as warmly as he
had spoken. "I will walk down as far as the hall with you," he said. "I
have some business in town I must attend to;" and he added shyly, "I
shall be glad if you and Miss Frances will come and see me when I am
established. Dr. Randall's wife will come with you, I think."
"That we will," assured the professor heartily.
"Bachelor's hall isn't very attractive," the young man went on
deprecatingly; "the house is very bare."
"Pshaw! we'll come and help brighten it up, won't we Frances?"
"'A house's best ornament is the presence of a friend,'" quoted Edward,
a glint of mischief in his eyes as he went to say good-by.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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