Winthrop. He looked surprised
to see me back so soon, and then, noticing traces of tears on my face,
said:
"What is wrong, little one?"
"Mrs. Le Grande died sometime during the night. The nurse told me she
showed no anxiety respecting her future state."
He was silent. At last I said: "You have forgiven her, Mr. Winthrop?"
"Forgiven her! Yes, Medoline; and if she had lived, I could never have
repaid her for the lesson she taught me, and the favor she conferred on
me by going away so abruptly."
"Then you will grant her last request that we should both attend her
funeral, and the reading of her will. I have an impression she has left
each of us some keepsake, as a token of her repentance."
"Don't you think, little one, that would be a mercenary motive to take us
there?"
"But I want you to grant her dying request," I murmured, already ashamed
of my argument.
"We will both go, assuredly; and in the meantime I shall see that
preparations for her funeral are suitably arranged."
"You will look upon her dead face; she left directions as to how she
should be robed for the grave. She said you should see your bride in her
wedding dress at last."
"I expect, before many weeks, to see my own precious bride. I shall be
indifferent as to her dress. It will be herself I shall look at," he said
with a caress that for the time made me forget Mrs. Le Grande.
We went to the funeral, to which went also a good part of the townsfolk;
for curiosity was on tip-toe.
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