My Mother's Rival / Everyday Life Library No. 4

k and appreciative. I read character well, and seemed to have a weird, uncanny insight into the thoughts and ideas of people-into their motives and plans. I had too much of th

de admiring the magnificent view. There was a restless, disconsolate expression mixed with her admiration, and I knew quite well the thoughts passing through her mind were, first, a vivid regret that the place was not hers, then a wonder as to the possibility of its ever belonging to her. I could read it in the lingering, loving glance she threw round, fol

r illness made her all the more dear to him, and that he looked upon it as a trial equally great for both of them; he loved her the more for it, and he devoted himself to her to make up to her as much as he could for the privations that she had to undergo. As for pitying himself, such an idea never

e looking as beautiful as a picture; the loveliest hue of the rose on her face, the freshness of the morning in her dark eyes and on her lips; dressed with great elegance, always with one lovely flow

ed; to discuss the plans for the day; to comment upon the letters received. To breakfast alone, or sit alone, was for him a torture; he sighed always when the breakfast bell rang,

flatteries, making tea for him with her own white hands, talking in the very brightest and most animated style. She had brilliant powers

my father would cry out that he wanted more tea. Miss Reinhart arranged his papers for him; s

ry original and clever ideas about everything, and it often happened that the conversation was prolonged until my father would take out his watch and exclaim wit

e before the lessons begin, Laura

not to me

rd my dear mother once, when my father

d to have so grand a

s the price she paid

ong that I first began to notice the tone

rd, her eyes bright with sweetest sympathy, her voice

ne this morning, Sir

tle difference and no imp

for you, Sir Roland. I sympathize so much with you. I never quite lose sight

her would laugh

e-it would be so much worse

ake his head gravely as she sho

is a terrible

, a thing by Sir Roland's desire always kept f

fault that she was stricken and helpless; ought this woman to speak to my father about it as though he were the sufferer? The tears that fell from my eyes blin

ny visitors, and my father seemed at a

; can I do anything to help you?" Or it would be, "How sorry I am to s

letters of invitation and his refusals and send them to my mother, commenting on them as he read. That was always followed by a pretty little love scene,

when these letters came and he would read them with knitted brow, she would inquire gently

e contrary. I ought to feel delighted. Sir Charles Pomfret wishes me to go over to Pomfort Cas

you," she cried. "You must

of a smile passe

mother. Now he began to pace up and down the room while she looked after him with pitiful eyes. S

ake care of Lady Tayne. I do not see that you need be anxious, or that th

yne," he said. "I have never left

rt; "and I am sure, quite sure, that if Lady Tayne knew, she would insist on it-she w

the wedge, but she succ

iable and unselfish, and told him what was perfectly true-that she was delighted, and that if he would begin to go out without her she would be most happ

very day; but it did not seem natural to me that Miss Reinhart should be waiting for him in th

my poor, dear mot