United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- Social conditions -- Fiction
As Hannah strode swiftly toward the glass door, bearing the slight
form in her stout arms, the stranger pressed forward, eagerly
scrutinizing the girl's face; but at this juncture Hero, barking
violently, sprang down the walk, and the intruder hastily retreated
to the churchyard, securing the gate after he passed through.
CHAPTER XI.
The steamer sailed promptly on the Thursday subsequent to Mrs.
Lindsay's departure from the parsonage, but she had been absent ten
days, detained by the illness of a friend in Boston.
Impatiently her return was anticipated by every member of the
household, and when a telegram announced that she might be expected
on the following morning, general rejoicing succeeded the gloom which
had hung chill and lowering over the diminished family circle. Under
Hannah's faithful, cautious treatment Regina had sufficiently
recovered from the effects of the sprain to walk once more without
much pain, though she still limped perceptibly; but a nameless,
formless foreboding of some impending evil--some baleful
influence--some grievous calamity hovering near--rendered her
particularly anxious for Mrs. Lindsay's comforting presence.
The condition of the church, which was undergoing a complete
renovation, as well as repairing of the steeple, prevented the usual
services, and this compulsory rest and leisure seemed singularly
opportune for Mr. Hargrove, who had been quite indisposed and feeble
for some days. The physician ascribed his condition to the lassitude
induced by the excessive heat, and Regina attributed his pale weary
aspect and evident prostration to grief for the loss of his nephew
and adopted son; but Hannah looked deeper, shook her grizzled head,
and "wished Miss Elise would come home."
The pastor's eyes which had long resented the exaggerated taxation
imposed upon them by years of study, had recently rebelled outright,
and he spoke of the necessity of visiting New York to consult an
eminent oculist, who, Mrs. Lindsay wrote, had gone to Canada, but
would return in September, when he hoped to examine and undertake the
treatment of her brother's eyes.
During Thursday morning the minister lay upon his library sofa, while
Regina read aloud for several hours, but in the afternoon, receiving
a summons to attend a sick man belonging to his church, he persisted
in walking to a distant part of the town, to discharge what he
considered a clerical obligation.
In vain Regina protested, assuring him that the heat and fatigue
would completely prostrate him. He only smiled, patted her head, and
said cheerfully as he put on his hat:
"Is the little girl wiser than her guardian? And has she not yet
learned that a pastor's duty knows neither heat nor cold, neither
fatigue nor bodily weaknesses?"
"I am so glad Mrs. Lindsay will come to-morrow. She can keep you at
home, and make you take care of yourself."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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