You are forgiven, but you are unnecessarily alarmed. I shall be better
soon. Hillsdale air will do me good, and I intend remaining here until
I am well again. Will you nurse me, Maggie, just as my sister Helen
would do were she here?"
The right chord was touched, and all the soft, womanly qualities
of Maggie Miller's nature were called forth by Arthur Carrollton's
failing health. For several weeks after his arrival at Hillsdale he
was a confirmed invalid, lying all day upon the sofa in the parlor,
while Maggie read to him from books which he selected, partly for the
purpose of amusing himself, and more for the sake of benefiting her
and improving her taste for literature. At other times he would tell
her of his home beyond the sea, and Maggie, listening to him while
he described its airy halls, its noble parks, its shaded walks, and
musical fountains, would sometimes wish aloud that she might one day
see that spot which seemed to her so much like paradise. He wished
so too, and oftentimes when, with half-closed eyes, his mind was
wandering amid the scenes of his youth, he saw at his side a queenly
figure with features like those of Maggie Miller, who each day was
stealing more and more into his heart, where love for other than his
nearest friends had never before found entrance. She had many faults,
he knew, but these he possessed both the will and the power to
correct, and as day after day she sat reading at his side he watched
her bright, animated face, thinking what a splendid woman she
would make, and wondering if an American rose like her would bear
transplanting to English soil.
Pages:
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209