Ann Maria Carter Smith

“ My dear, ‘There is many a true word spoken in jest.’ The next assembly night came, and there, to Lucy’s surprise, was Colonel Redworth. How she blushed and started—how her heart beat. He made his way to her, he asked the honour of her hand for all the cotillons that evening. Poor silly girl, she consented. How happily she danced, every step a pleasure. Well, it is well to be young and happy after all! At supper Lucy sat next Augusta. She longed to hear her opinion of her partner. ”

“ On the Tuesday young Colonel Redworth called to make his father’s excuses; the poor old man could not leave the house. Well, Lucy was sitting in the arbour, working; silly child—she longed to go in, but shame kept her out; she felt whose voice it was that she caught occasionally. Well, my dear, he and her uncle came out into the garden,—the Hector had in old times been the Colonel’s tutor,—they came towards her, and Lucy heard a frank, pleasant voice say:
“Ah, do you remember that last lesson in the arbour, and how you said I should kill you before I’d done with it? ”

“ Lucy saw Colonel Redworth’s eye follow them, glance from her to her companion, back to her, and then rest upon her companion. Isabella—from that moment she was jealous of her friend. She sat down on the nearest seat, Augusta lingered only a moment beside her, and then went to her mother. She, too, felt that they were henceforth rivals.
“Elsie,” continued the old lady, clasping her hands upon her lap, “I cannot follow that winter through, it was shameful to both; they set themselves one against the other, they struggled each to be the lovelier. Sir Thomas and Lady Anne came to town ”

“ I was glad when he died! My daughter dead also, and yet she died an old woman, too. Meg, I used to think Death had forgotten me—now, again, he will come all too soon!’
“‘Are there none then?’
“‘Yes; my daughter’s son. ”

“ Elsie, I had been with her when the first sketch was begun, with her when the last touch had been put in. I could not believe my eyes. Yes, this was that portrait, and no other, though strangely had sixty years dimmed and marred its beauties. I stood gazing and gazing, and my heart yearned to her, my old friend,—not, my dear, but that I believed her dead long ago.
“As I stood, the door of a room a little to my left opened. An aged lady came out, stately, and yet bowed; beautiful, but exceeding sad. She passed me ”