The Cameron pride; or, purified by suffering : $b A novelHolmes, Mary Jane
General
The Cameron pride; or, purified by suffering : $b A novel
Holmes, Mary Jane
American fiction -- 19th century
“How would _I_ appear by the side of those ladies?” she suddenly asked,
her countenance changing as Morris replied that it was almost impossible
to think of her as associated with the Camerons, she was so wholly
unlike them in every respect.
“I don’t believe I shocked Wilford so very much,” Katy rejoined,
reproachfully, while again a heavy pain shot through Morris’s heart, for
he saw more and more how Wilford Cameron was mingled with every thought
of the young girl, who continued: “And if he was satisfied, his mother
and sisters will be. Any way, I don’t want you to make me feel how
different I am from them.”
There was tears now on Katy’s face, and casting aside all selfishness,
Morris wound his arm around her, and smoothing her golden hair, just as
he used to do when she was a child and came to him to be soothed, he
said, very gently,
“My poor Kitty, you do like Wilford Cameron; tell me honestly—is it not
so?”
“Yes, I guess I do,” and Katy’s voice was a half sob. “I could not help
it, either, he was so kind, so—I don’t know what, only I could not help
doing what he bade me. Why, if he had said, ‘Jump overboard, Katy
Lennox,’ I should have done it, I know—that is, if his eyes had been
upon me, they controlled me so absolutely. Can you imagine what I mean?”
“Yes, I understand. There was the same look in Bell Cameron’s eye, a
kind of mesmeric influence which commanded obedience. They idolize
Wilford, and I dare say he is worthy of their idolatry. One thing at
least is in his favor—the crippled Jamie, for whose opinion I would give
more than all the rest, seemed to worship his Uncle Will; talking of him
continually, and telling how kind he was, sometimes staying up all night
to carry him in his arms when the pain in his back was more than usually
severe. So there must be a good, kind heart in Wilford Cameron, and if
my Cousin Kitty likes him, as she says she does, and he likes her as I
believe he must, why, I hope——”
Morris Grant could not finish the sentence, for he did _not_ hope that
Wilford Cameron would win the gem he had so long coveted as his own.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account