Yet such was the case, for Mr Marchurst, not seeing Kitty
at family prayers, had sent in the servant to seek for her, and the
scared domestic had returned with a startled face and a letter for
her master. Marchurst read the tear-blotted little note, in which
Kitty said she was going down to Melbourne to appear on the stage.
Crushing it up in his hand, he went on with family prayers in his
usual manner, and after dismissing his servants for the night, he
went up to his daughter's room, and found that she had left nearly
everything behind, only taking a few needful things with her. Seeing
her portrait on the wall he took it down and placed it in his
pocket. Then, searching through her room, he found some ribbons and
lace, a yellow-backed novel, which he handled with the utmost
loathing, and a pair of gloves. Regarding these things as the
instruments of Satan, by which his daughter had been led to
destruction, he carried them downstairs to his dismal study and
piled them in the empty fireplace. Placing his daughter's portrait
on top he put a light to the little pile of frivolities, and saw
them slowly burn away. The novel curled and cracked in the scorching
flame, but the filmy lace vanished like cobwebs, and the gloves
crackled and shrank into mere wisps of black leather. And over all,
through the flames, her face, bright and charming, looked out with
laughing lips and merry eyes--so like her mother's, and yet so
unlike in its piquant grace--until that too fell into the hollow
heart of the flames, and burned slowly away into a small pile of
white ashes.
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