Bradfort had made Lucy so
independent; as it seemed to increase the chasm that I fancied was
opening between us.
CHAPTER XXIV.
"Your name abruptly mentioned, casual words
Of comment on your deeds, praise from your uncle,
News from the armies, talk of your return,
A word let fall touching your youthful passion
Suffused her cheek, called to her drooping eye
A momentary lustre."
I had no difficulty in putting my project of a private interview with
Grace, in execution in my own house. There was one room at Clawbonny,
that, from time immemorial, had been appropriated exclusively to the
use of the heads of the establishment; It was called the "family
room," as one would say "family-pictures" or "family--plate." In my
father's time, I could recollect that I never dreamed of entering it,
unless asked or ordered; and even then, I always did so with some such
feeling as I entered a church. What gave it a particular and
additional sanctity in out eyes, also, was the fact that the
Wallingford dead were always placed in their coffins, in this room,
and thence they were borne to their graves. It was a very small
triangular room, with the fire-place in one corner, and possessing but
a single window, that opened on a thicket of rose-bushes, ceringos,
and lilacs.
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