Unfortunately I was not old enough to disguise the transports of
delight that set my heart beating and my crippled limbs trembling as
I saw Winifred gliding like a fairy about the house and gardens, and
petted even by my proud and awful mother. My mother did not fail to
notice this, and before long she had got from Frank the history of
our little loves, and even of the 'cripple water' from St. Winifred's
Well. I partly heard what Frank was telling her, and I was the only
one to notice the expression of displeasure that overspread her
features. She did not, however, show it to the child, but she never
invited her there again, and from that evening was much more vigilant
over my movements, lest I should go to Wynne's cottage. I still,
however, continued to meet Winifred in Graylingham Wood during her
stay with her father; and at last, when she again left me, I felt
desolate indeed.
I wrote her a letter, and took it to him to address. He was very fond
of showing his penmanship, which was remarkably good. He had indeed
been well educated, though from his beer-house associations he had
entirely caught the rustic accent.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101