Elinor Wyllys; Or, The Young Folk of Longbridge: A Tale. Volume 1Cooper, Susan Fenimore
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Elinor Wyllys; Or, The Young Folk of Longbridge: A Tale. Volume 1
Cooper, Susan Fenimore
Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Fiction; Historical fiction
They found Miss Agnes in the drawing-room; she, it seemed,
already knew of Hazlehurst's departure. She said little on the
subject, but looked anxious and absent. Elinor scarcely knew what
to think; she was afraid to trust herself to make any inquiries,
preferring to wait until alone with her aunt after breakfast. The
meal passed over in silence. Mr. Wyllys looked uneasy; Elinor was
at a loss to know what to think; neither of the ladies paid much
attention to the morning meal that day.
Miss Agnes rose from table, and went to her own room; Elinor,
neglecting her usual task as housekeeper, hastened to follow her
aunt, her mind filled with indistinct fears and anxieties. Miss
Agnes was walking about her room, looking pained and distressed.
Several letters were lying on a table near her; two were
unopened; one she had been reading.
"Letters!--my dear Aunt, from whom? Tell me, I conjure you, what
you know! Has anything happened to Louisa--to Jane? Did Harry
leave no message for me?" cried Elinor, hurrying towards her
aunt, whose face she watched for an answer to each question, as
she asked it. Miss Wyllys made an effort to compose herself, and
held out her hand to Elinor.
"My dearest Aunt!--pray tell me what distresses you--Ha! Harry's
handwriting!" she exclaimed, as her eye fell on the open letter
by Miss Wyllys--"I know that letter is from Harry; do not conceal
anything; is it for me?"
"This letter is to me, my child," replied her aunt, taking up the
one she had been reading; wishing to give Elinor all the
preparation in her power, for a blow which she knew must fall
heavily, since it was so entirely unexpected.
"But there are two other letters," cried Elinor, "one of them is
for me, I am sure. Let me see it at once, Aunt; you cannot deny
that it is for me--and if it contain bad news, you know that I
can command myself when necessary."
Miss Agnes's hand trembled as she took the letters.
"My child! My beloved Elinor!" she said.
"Dearest Aunt, you torture me! Tell me, I beseech you, what we
have to fear!"
"You shall know all," Miss Agnes replied, seating herself; and
endeavouring to be calm. "You will be much distressed, my child;
but I know that you will be now, what you always have been,
reasonable, and true to yourself--to your grandfather--to me,"
added Miss Wyllys, in a voice almost inarticulate.
A thousand indistinct ideas passed through Elinor's mind with the
rapidity of lightning, while her aunt was speaking; illness of
some absent friend suggested itself--yet who could it be? Not
Harry, surely, for he had gone over to Upper Lewiston that
morning--yet her fears instinctively centred upon Hazlehurst.
"It is something relating to Harry, I am sure," she said. "Is he
ill?--is he in trouble?" she asked in a faint voice, while a
prayer for resignation sprang from her heart, with the words.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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