He'd like her to wear a prayer-cap and a
poke bonnet, I guess, but she has a mind of her own. I think she drew
the line there."
She had not given up so much, I thought. Perhaps in her self-denial
there was method, and her simple garb became her best. Even a
prayer-cap might frame her face the fairest; but she must know. And I
had seen that in the flash of her eye and the toss of her head that
told me that a hundred Luther Wardens, a hundred Dunkard preacher
uncles, could not abate her beauty one jot.
"She's rich," said Tim.
He blurted it out. As long as I had seen her and found her beautiful,
this announcement seemed uncalled for. Had she been plain of face and
figure it might have served a purpose, were my brother endeavoring to
excuse the sentimental state of mind he had disclosed to me. He knew
that the place he held in my heart was first. This had always been
true, and in our lonely innocence we had promised it should be true to
the end. There was to be a fair return. He had promised it, and now
he was learning how hard it was to keep faith.
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