A heroine of 1812 : $b A Maryland romanceBlanchard, Amy Ella
History
A heroine of 1812 : $b A Maryland romance
Blanchard, Amy Ella
Maryland -- Juvenile fiction; United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Juvenile fiction
“But think what a dreadful charge it was; no wonder he cannot forgive
me.”
“He should have written, anyhow.”
“But if he had nothing but resentment to express, it was better that he
should not, I think. At all events, I have said I am sorry, and I can
do no more. I acknowledged that I had formed hasty conclusions, and was
as humble as I could be.”
“Which was an acknowledgment against your will, I know. He should have
appreciated the fact that it went against the grain for Lettice Hopkins
to eat humble pie for the sake of any man. You liked him a little,
Lettice?”
“I liked him very much at one time, but I never liked him well
enough to give up all for him. I should always have disagreed with
his opinions. We quarrelled often, and after all this, it would be
impossible for us to forget what had come between us. Besides, after
the sorrows I have had, I never, never could care for any one who sided
with those who were the cause of them.”
“And Rhoda, what does she say? Rhoda was very fond of our dear Jamie, I
well know.”
Lettice did not reply for a moment. She was rocking her little nephew,
whose eyelids were beginning to droop over his bright eyes. “He is
almost asleep,” Lettice remarked. “I cannot tell about Rhoda,” she went
on to say. “She is a very dutiful daughter, and although I think she
will never forget Jamie, she is young, and some day she may marry, as
it would please her father to have her. Ah me, Sister Betty, trouble
makes one feel very old. I was such a careless thing a couple of years
ago; but when I think of my two brothers and my father all in peril, of
my home destroyed and my friends scattered, is it a wonder that I am
sad?”
“No wonder at all, dear child, but I predict happy days for you yet. I
see a gallant young officer, splendid in his uniform, riding toward my
lady sister, and she all smiles and blushes.” Betty leaned over, tipped
back Lettice’s head, and looked down with laughing eyes at her. “I see
the smiles and the blushes,” she said, kissing her forehead; then,
lifting her head, she gave a start and looked intently toward the gate.
“Oh, Letty,” she cried, “I see the officer in the flesh! Look yonder,
coming up the lane.”
Lettice lifted her eyes; then dropped them and continued to rock the
sleeping baby until a voice said, “Ah, Miss Lettice, I hoped to find
you here. What a sweet, peaceful picture is this to a man who has seen
only the deck of a frigate for the last six months. May I sit here?”
He took the chair Betty had just vacated and leaned forward to put a
gentle finger on the baby’s soft hair. “How he has grown,” he remarked.
“I am tremendously glad to see you, Miss Lettice.”
“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Baldwin.”
“You look pale, and scarce as sunny and blithe as I remember. But I
recall that you have passed through deep waters since I saw you.”
The tears gathered in Lettice’s eyes, and one fell on the golden head
pillowed on her arm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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