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Letters.

 

One To Her Brother Sylvan,  In Which She Acknowledged The Receipt Of His

Letter,  Expressed Her Thanks To The Colonel For His Kindness,  And

Assured Him That She Should Gladly Avail Herself Of The Escort Of The

Nevilles And Go Out Under Their Protection To Fort Farthermost.

 

This Letter She Put In The Mail Bag In The Hall Ready For The Messenger

To Take To The North End Post Office.

 

The Second Letter Was A Farewell To Her Grandfather,  In Which She

Expressed Her Sorrow At Leaving Him Even At His Own Command; Her Grief

At Having Offended Him,  However Unintentionally; Her Prayers For His

Forgiveness,  And Her Hope To Meet Him Again In Health,  Happiness And

Prosperity.

 

This Letter Corona Stuck On The Card Rack,  Where He Would Be Sure To

Find It.

 

Then She Ordered Her Own Little Pony Carriage,  And Went And Put On Her

Part 2 Chapter 32 (Corona's Opportunity) Pg 147

Bonnet And Her Warm Fur-Lined Cloak And Called Mark To Bring Her Shawls

And Traveling Bags Down To The Hall.

 

When All This Had Been Done,  Corona Called All The Servants Together,

Made Them Each A Little Present,  And Then Bade Them Good-By.

 

Then She Stepped Into The Little Carriage And Bade The Groom To Drive On

To Violet Banks.

 

"I Think I Shall Go No Further Than That To-Night,  My Friends,  And

Leave For Washington To-Morrow Morning," She Said,  In A Broken Voice,  As

The Pony Started.

 

"Then All Ob Us Wot Kin Get Off Will Come To Bid Yer Annurrer Good-By

To-Morrow Mornin'!" Came Hoarsely From One Of The Crowd,  And Was

Repeated By All In A Chorus.

 

The Carriage Rolled Down The Avenue To The Ferry--Not That Corona

Intended To Cross The River,  For Violet Banks,  It Will Be Remembered,

Was On The Same Side And A Few Miles North Of Rockhold--But That She

Would Not Leave The Place Without Taking Leave Of Old Moses,  The

Ferryman. Fortunately The Boat Lay Idle At Its Wharf,  And The Old Man

Sat In The Ferry House,  Hugging The Stove And Smoking His Pipe.

 

He Came Out At The Sound Of Wheels. Corona Called Him To The Carriage,

Told Him That She Did Not Want To Cross The River,  But That She Was

Going Away For A While And Wished To Take Leave Of Him.

 

Now Old Moses Had Seen Too Many Arrivals And Departures To And From

Rockhold To Feel Much Emotion At This News; Besides He Had No Idea Of

The Gravity Of This Departure. So He Only Touched His Old Felt Hat And

Said:

 

"Eh,  Young Mist'ess,  Hopes How Yer'll Hab A Monsous Lubly Time! Country

Is Dull For De Young Folks In De Winter. Gwine To De City,  S'pose,  Young

Mist'ess?"

 

"Yes,  Uncle Moses,  I Am Going To Washington First," Replied Corona.

 

"Lors! I Hear Tell How So Many Folkses Do Go To Washintub! Wunner Wot

Dey Go For? In De Winter,  Too! Lors! Well,  Honey,  I Wish Yer A Mighty

Fine Time And A Handsome Husban' Afore Yer Comes Home. Lor' Bress Yer,

Young Mist'ess!"

 

"Thank You,  Uncle Moses. Here Is A Trifle For You," Said Cora,  Putting A

Half Eagle In His Hand.

 

"Lor' Bress Yer,  Young Mist'ess,  How I Do Tank Yer Wid All My Heart! I

Nebber Had So Much Money At One Time In All My Life!" Exclaimed The

Overjoyed Old Ferryman.

 

Part 2 Chapter 33 (Farewell To Violet Banks) Pg 148

 

Along The North Road,  Between The Thickly Wooded East Ridge And The

Swiftly Running River,  Corona Drove On Her Last Journey Through That

Valley. Three Miles Up,  The Road Turned From The River,  And,  With

Several Windings And Doublings,  Ascended The Mountain Side To The

Elevated Plateau On Which Were Situated The Beautiful House And Grounds

Called Violet Banks.

 

As The Carriage Reached The Magnificent Plateau,  Corona Stopped The

Horse For A Moment To Take In The Glory Of The View. In The Midst Of Her

Admiration Of This Scenery,  Two Distinct Thoughts Were Strongly Borne In

On The Mind Of Corona. One Was That Violet Rockharrt Would Never Be

Willing To Leave This Enchanting Spot To Make Her Home At Rockhold. She

Might Consent To Do So To Please Others,  But She Would Suffer Through

It.

 

The Other Thought Was That Old Aaron Rockharrt Would Never Consent To

Live In A Place Which,  However Beautiful It Might Be,  Was Too Difficult

Of Access And Egress For A Man Of His Age.

 

What,  Then,  Could Be Done To Cheer The Old Man's Solitude At His Home?

The Only Hope Lay In The Chance Of Mr. Clarence Finding A Wife Who Might

Be Acceptable To His Father,  And Bringing Her Home To Rockhold.

 

The Carriage Drew Up Before The Long,  Low Villa,  With Its Vine-Clad

Porch,  Where,  Though The Roses Had Faded And Fallen,  The Still Vivid

Green Foliage And Brilliant Rose Berries Made A Gay Appearance.

 

Violet Was Not Sitting On The Porch,  Beside Her Little Wicker Workstand

Basket,  As She Always Had Been Found By Cora In The Earlier Months Of

Her Residence There,  But,  Nevertheless,  She Saw Her Visitor's Approach

From The Front Windows Of Her Sitting Room,  And Ran Out To Meet Her.

 

"Oh,  So Glad To See You! And Such A Delightful Surprise!" Were The Words

With Which She Caught Cora In Her Arms,  As The Latter Alighted From The

Carriage.

 

"How Well You Look,  Dear. A Real Wood Violet Now,  In Your Pretty Purple

Robe," Said Corona,  With Assumed Gayety,  As She Returned The Little

Creature's Embrace,  And Went With Her Into The House.

 

"I Am Going To Send The Carriage To The Stable. You Shall Spend The

Afternoon And Evening With Me,  Whether You Will Or Not,  And Whether The

Handsome Lover Breaks His Heart Or Not!" Exclaimed Violet,  As They

Entered The Parlor.

 

"Don't Trouble Yourself,  Dear. See,  The Man Is Driving Around To The

Stable Now,  And I Have Come,  Not Only To Spend The Afternoon,  But The

Night With You," Said Cora,  Sitting Down And Beginning To Unfasten Her

Fur Cloak. "Will My Uncle Be Late In Returning This Evening?"

 

"Fabian? Oh,  No! This Is His Early Day. He Will Be Home Very Soon Now.

But Where Did You Leave His Grace? Why Did He Not Escort You Here?"

Inquired The Little Lady.

 

"Have You Not Heard That He Has Left Rockhold?" Asked Corona,  In Her

Turn.

 

"Why,  No. I Have Heard Nothing About Him Since The Night Of The Dinner

Given In Honor Of Your Betrothal. Are You Tired,  Cora,  Dear? You Look

Tired. Shall I Show You To Your Room,  Where You May Bathe Your Face?"

Inquired Violet,  Noticing For The First Time The Pale And Weary Aspect

Of Her Visitor.

 

"No; But You May Bring The Baby Here To See Me."

 

"My Baby? Oh,  The Little Angel Has Just Been Put To Sleep--Its Afternoon

Sleep. Come Into The Nursery,  And I Will Show It To You," Exclaimed The

Proud And Happy Mother,  Starting Up And Leading The Way To The Upper

Floor And To A Front Room Over The Library,  Fitted Up Beautifully As A

Nursery. Corona,  On Entering,  Was Conscious Of A Blending Of Many Soft

Bright Colors,  And Of A Subdued Rainbow Light,  Like The Changes Of The

Opal.

 

Violet Led Her Directly To The Cradle,  An Elegant Structure Of Fine

Light Wood,  Satin And Lace,  In Which Was Enshrined The Jewel,  The

Treasure,  The Idol Of The Household--A Tiny,  Round-Headed,  Pink-Faced

Little Atom Of Humanity,  Swathed In Flannel,  Cambric And Lace,  And

Covered With Fine Linen Sheets Trimmed With Lace,  Little Lamb's-Wool

Blankets Embroidered With Silk,  And A Coverlet Of Satin In Alternate

Tablets Of Rose,  Azure And Pearl Tablets.

 

The Delighted Mother And The Admiring Visitor Stood Gazing At The Babe,

And Talking In Low Tones For Ten Or Fifteen Minutes Perhaps,  And Were

Then Admonished By The Nurse--An Experienced Woman--That It Was Not Good

For Such Young Babies To Be Looked Over And Talked Over So Long When

They Were Asleep.

 

Violet And Her Visitor Softly Withdrew From The Cradle,  And Corona Had

Leisure To Look Around The Lovely Room,  The Carpet Of Tender Green,  Like

The First Spring Grass,  And Dotted Over With Buttercups And Daisies; The

Wall Paper Of Pearl White,  With A Vine Of Red And White Roses Running

Over It; The Furniture Of Curled Maple,  Upholstered In Fine Chintz,  In

Colors To Match The Wall Paper. But The Window Curtains Were The Marvels

Of The Apartment. There Were Two High Front Windows,  Draped In Rainbow

Silk--That Is,  Each Breadth Of The Hangings Was In Perfect Rainbow

Part 2 Chapter 33 (Farewell To Violet Banks) Pg 149

Stripes,  And The Effect Of The Light Streaming Through Them Was Soft,

Bright,  And Very Beautiful.

 

"It Is A Creation! Whose?" Inquired Corona,  As She Stood Before One Of

The Windows.

 

"Well,  It Was My Idea,  Though I Am Not At All Noted For Ideas,  As

Everybody Knows," Said Violet,  With A Smile. "But I Wanted My Baby's

First Impressions Of Life To Be Serenely Delightful Through Every Sense.

I Wanted Her To See,  When She Should Open Her Eyes In The Morning,  A

Sphere Of Soft Light And Bright,  Delicate Shades Of Color. So I Prepared

This Room."

 

"But Where Did You Find The Rainbow Draperies?"

 

"Oh,  Them! I Designed Them For My Baby,  And Fabian Sent The Pattern To

Paris,  And We Received The Goods In Due Time. I Will Tell You Another

Thing. I Have An Aeolian Harp For Her. It Is Under The Front Window Of

The Upper Hall,  But Its Aerial Music Can Reach Her Here When It Is In

Place. When She Is A Little Stronger I Am Going To Have A Music Box For

Her. Oh,  I Want My Little Baby To Live In A Sphere Of 'Sweet Sights,

Sweet Sounds,  Soft Touches.'"

 

A Brisk,  Firm Footstep,  A Cheery,  Ringing Voice In The Hall Below,

Arrested The Conversation Of The Two Women.

 

"It Is Fabian! Come!" Exclaimed Violet,  Joyfully,  Leading The Way Down

Stairs.

 

Mr. Fabian Stood At The Foot. He Embraced His Young Wife Boisterously,

And Then Seeing Cora Coming Down Stairs Behind Violet,  Went And Shook

Hands With His Niece,  Saying:

 

"Glad To See You! Glad To See You! Has Violet Been Showing You Our

Little Goddess? I Tell You What,  Cora: Everything Has Changed Since That

Usurper Came. This Place Is No Longer 'Violet Banks' It Is The Holy

Hill. This House Is The Temple; That Nursery Is The Sanctuary; That

Cradle Is The Altar; And That Babe Is The Idol Of The Community. Now Go

Along With Violet. Oh! She Is High Priestess

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