For Woman's LoveSouthworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
General
For Woman's Love
Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
Fiction
The girl took it with a smile, but before she could open her lips to
express her thanks, the youth had bowed, turned from the carriage, and
was speeding his way up the rough mountain path, springing from crag to
crag up to the ledge on which old Scythia's hut stood.
Cora opened the parcel and found an inch-square little casket of red
morocco. She opened this with a spring, and found a small gold heart
reposing in a bed of white satin.
"How pretty it is!" she said softly to herself, as she took the trinket
from its case. "Look, grandma, what Rule has brought me for a Christmas
gift! A little gold heart! A pure gold heart! His is a pure gold heart,
is it not?" she added, earnestly, as she placed the trinket in the
lady's hand.
Mrs. Rockharrt looked at it with interest, and then passed it on to her
eldest son.
The ride was continued, and presently the carriage was driven off the
boat and up the avenue leading to the house. As the vehicle drew up
before the front doors, a pretty picture might have been seen through
the drawing-room windows.
A bright fireside, an old man reclining in his luxurious arm-chair; a
beautiful girl seated on a hassock at his feet, reading to him, and at
intervals lifting her lovely blue eyes in childish adoration to his
face. They might have been grandfather and granddaughter, but they were,
in fact, old Aaron Rockharrt and Miss Rose Flowers--Merlin and Vivien
again, except that the Iron King was rather a rugged and unmanageable
Merlin.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, Regulas Rothsay had climbed the rugged mountain path that led
to Scythia's hut. On the back of the broad shelf of rock on which the
hut stood was a hollow in the side of the precipice. Scythia had cleared
out this hollow of all its natural litter. Before this apartment she had
built another room, with no better material than fragments of rock found
on the spot, and filled in with earth, moss and twigs. She had roofed
this over with branches of evergreens piled thick and high, to keep off
rain and sun. A heavy buffalo robe, fastened with large wooden pins at
its top to the roof of the hut, served for a door. There was no window.
In the inner or cavernous apartment she had built a rude fire-place and
chimney going up through a hole in the rock. A pallet of rough furs and
coarse blankets lay in one corner of this room, and a few rude cooking
utensils occupied another. In the outer room there was a rough oak table
and two chairs.
Up before the edge of this natural shelf on which the hut stood appeared
the tops of a thicket of pine trees that grew on the mountain side fifty
feet below. Up behind this shelf arose other pines, height above height,
until their highest tops seemed to pierce the clouds.
When Rule reached this shelf, he found the tops of the pine trees, the
ground, and the hut all covered with snow.
"Good morning, mother! A merry Christmas to you!" said Rule, gayly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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