Winthrop?"
"I must obey him. It was his hope you would never hear the disgraceful
story. His special command if you did that I must tell him directly. I
promised to do so and I must fulfill that promise, but at a cost,
Medoline, that I dare not think of."
"Will you go directly then? Maybe this is my last day at Oaklands. I
shall not stay here to suffer his contempt and displeasure." I said
wearily, my bodily misery dulling to some extent the mental pain; for I
was growing sick rapidly. With difficulty I gained the shelter of my own
room, my one haven of refuge in the wide world. Crouching by the window I
watched the mad, hurrying storm outside, and wondering vaguely if nature
suffered in this elemental warfare as we did in our tempests of the soul
when the very foundations of hope and happiness were getting swept from
our feet. In imagination I re-lived my past months at Oaklands, my
intercourse with Mr. Winthrop, his gradually increasing esteem, the
friendship, nay rather the comradeship that was being cemented between us
over literature and art, the help he was giving me in these, and the rare
life that imagination was beginning to picture that we might enjoy
through coming years together.
I realized then, as never before, how happy I had been in my new home;
and with a clearness that gave me pain came the consciousness how much my
guardian had become to me. After to-day I might never again call Oaklands
my home. If I had gone at once and confessed to Mr.
Pages:
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294