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CHAPTER FIFTY NINE
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Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY
THE cottage in the lane was not very pretentious, and all its rooms were small and low and upon the ground floor, except the one which Jerrie had occupied since she had grown too large for the crib by Mrs. Crawford's bed. In this room, in which there was but one window, Jerrie kept all her possessions—her playthings and her books, and the trunk and carpet-bag which had been found with her. Here she had cut off her hair and slept on the floor, to see how it would seem, and here she had enacted many a play, in which the scenes and characters were all of the past. For the cold in winter she did not care at all, and when in summer the nights were close and hot, she drew her little bed to the open window and fell asleep while thinking how warm she was. That she ought to have a better room never occurred to her, and never had she found a word of fault or repined at her humble surroundings, so different from those of her girl friends. Only, as she grew taller, she had sometimes laughingly sa
Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY ONE
Yes, Rice Corner! Do you think it a queer name? Well, Rice Corner was a queer place, and deserved a queer name. Now whether it is celebrated for anything in particular, I really can't at this moment think, unless, indeed, it is famed for having been my birthplace! Whether this of itself is sufficient to immortalize a place future generations may, perhaps, tell, but I have some misgivings whether the present will. This idea may be the result of my having recently received sundry knocks over the knuckles in the shape of criticisms.But I know one thing—on the bark of that old chestnut tree which stands near Rice Corner schoolhouse, my name is cut higher than some of my more bulky contemporary quill—or rather steel—pen-wielders ever dared to climb. To be sure, I tore my dress, scratched my face, and committed numerous other little rompish miss-demeanors, which procured for me a motherly scolding. That, however, was of minor consideration when compared with having my name up—in the chestn
Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
The sunlight of a bright Christmas morning had hardly dawned upon the earth, when from many a planter’s home in the sunny south was heard the joyful cry of “Christmas Gift,” “Christmas Gift,” as the negroes ran over and against each other, hiding ofttimes, until some one came within hailing distance, when their loud “Christmas Gift” would make all echo again. On this occasion, every servant at Maple Grove was remembered, for Anna and ’Lena had worked both early and late in preparing some little present, and feeling amply compensated for their trouble, when they saw how much happiness it gave. Mabel, too, while she stayed, had lent a helping hand, and many a blessing was that morning invoked upon her head from the hearts made glad by her generous gifts. Carrie, when asked to join them, had turned scornfully away, saying “she’d plenty to do, without working for niggers; who could not appreciate it.”So all her leisure hours were spent in embroidering a fine cambric handkerchief, intende
Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY THREE
But alas for the delusion! The morrow brought no improvement, neither the next day, nor the next, and as the world grew dim there crept into her heart a sense of utter desolation which neither the tender love of Maude Glendower nor yet the untiring devotion of Louis could in any degree dispel. All day would she sit opposite the window, her eyes fixed on the light with a longing, eager gaze, as if she feared that the next moment it might leave her forever. Whatever he could do for her Louis did, going to her room each morning and arranging her dress and hair just as he knew she used to wear it. She would not suffer anyone else to do this for her, and in performing these little offices Louis felt that he was only repaying her in part for all she had done for him.Christmas Eve came at last, and if she thought of what was once to have been on the morrow, she gave no outward token, and with her accustomed smile bade the family good-night. The next morning Louis went often to her door, and
Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR
"Mr. Moreland bought it. Wasn't he kind?" said Jenny, who all the evening had been trying for a chance to thank George, but now when she attempted to do so he prevented her by saying, "Oh don't—don't—I can imagine all you wish to say, and I hate to be thanked. Rose and I are particular friends, and it afforded me a great deal of pleasure to purchase it for her—but," he added, glancing at his watch, "I must be excused now, as I promised to call upon my ward.""Who's that?" asked Jenny, and George replied that it was a Miss Herndon, who had accompanied him from New Orleans to visit her aunt, Mrs. Russell."He says she's an heiress, and very beautiful," rejoined Ida, seating herself at the piano.Instantly catching at the words "heiress" and "beautiful," Henry started up, asking "if it would be against all the rules of propriety for him to call upon her thus early.""I think it would," was George's brief answer, while Mary's eyes flashed scornfully upon the young man, who, rather crestfa
Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE
Then Jerrie looked upon him as madder than Arthur himself, and talked so rapidly and argued so well that he consented at last to keep his own counsel, for the present at least, unless the shadow still haunted him, in which case he must tell as an act of contrition or penance."He will think the photograph came with the other papers in the bag," Jerrie said, as she again kissed the sweet face, which looked so much like life that it was hard[Pg 399] to think there was not real love and tenderness in the eyes which looked into hers so steadfastly.It was the hardest to forgive the letter hidden so long, and Jerrie did feel a pang of resentment, or something like it, as she took it in her hand and thought of the day when Arthur had confided it to her, saying he could trust her when he could not another. And she had trusted Frank, who had not been true to her trust, and here, after the lapse of years, was the letter, with its singular superscription covering the whole side, and its seal un
Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.”― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of FireTouching the piece of glass in front of her, Valentina couldn't remember the last time she looked at herself in the mirror. She could not tell if she still recognized the person looking back at her from the looking-glass. After dressing up and applying make up, she tried to look back again in the mirror. However, whenever she tried to smile at her reflection: the smile would not reach her cloudy hazel eyes, for she could not even recognize the woman in front of her. The Semi-naked clothes, which had costed thousand of dollars (because you buy the name of the brand and not the clothes), the heavy makeup that did not accentuate her features but rather gave her a new fake face, and finally the artificial height increase which an expensive heels gave to her and also which made no sense since it would only take two steps before her feet would be lit
Of Frost and Fire PROLOGUE
Prologue "Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings." ― Anais Nin The deep voice of the stranger was the first and only thing that greeted her long before her eyelids, which had remained drooping for up to ten hours up until now, pushed open. "Is it possible that you finally woke up, Miss. Cuthbert?" His dark blue eyes, which were raging like a windy day's sky, met hers and her heart skipped a beat. She felt out of place and confused. She couldn't place him, and what made her more confused, and puzzled, was the puffiness and redness of the stranger's eyes. However, she did not have the power in her to voice out loud any question, nor even wonder within herself if he was crying before she woke up; because the word pain was the simplest word one might describe what she was feeling as of now, for every inch
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- Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER NINE
- Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE
- Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR
- Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY THREE
- Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
- Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY ONE
- Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER SIXTY
- Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER FIFTY NINE
- Of Frost and Fire CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT
