To her it was simply an attempt
to alter and ruin the spot she loved best on earth; to steal her beautiful
waterfall and carry it away in an ugly iron pipe. Whether the thing could
be done, she did not ask herself; the design was enough. Never would she
lend herself, or anything that was hers, to such an impious desecration!
This was her position, which any child might have taken in defense of a
beloved toy; but she was holding it with all a woman's force and constancy.
I was glad of it, I said to Tom, and I hoped she would stand them off
for all she was worth. But I am not really glad. What woman could love
a waterfall better than her husband's success? There are hundreds of
waterfalls in the world, but only this one scheme for Tom.
But anent this hitch, it teases me a little, I confess, on Kitty's account,
when Cecil meanders over to the island at all hours of the day. To be sure,
it relieves Kitty of his company; but is she so glad, after all, to be
relieved?
It was last Friday, after one of Harshaw's entirely frank but perfectly
unexplained absences, that he came into camp and inquired if there was any
clam-broth left in the kitchen.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231