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Malaeska: The Indian Wife of the White Hunter

Chapter 9 No.9

Word Count: 1467    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

or her mother

ther's ten

le sister's

ong of sum

nt back to t

memory kn

riest trifl

r her lik

down the Hudson, even with a fair wind, and its approach to a settlement made more commotion than the largest Atlantic steamer could produce at the present day. So the

wn handiwork in the form of knit muffles, fine yarn stockings, and colored wristlets, that she had been years in kn

ncy baskets from Malaeska, who parted with her in tenderness and sorrow; for one more like a wi

the sloop had rounded the Point. As it was, she grew thoughtful and almost sad as the somber magnificence of the scenery unrolled itself. A settlement here and there broke the forest with smiles

ht and polished into a marvel of gentility. The town was very beautiful, but after the first novelty gave way, she grew more lonely than ever; every thing

followed by a porter who carried her trunk on one shoulder

more than usual interest, as it passed, for Sarah had all her mother's fresh beauty, wit

isted; for all the rural land-marks are swept away. But, in the olden times, houses had breathing space for flowers around them in Manhattan, and a man

st respectable streets, stood a house with the number of gables and windows requisite to perfect gentility, and a large brass plate spread its glittering surface below the great brass knocker. This plate set forth, in bright, gold

and startled by the heavy reverberations of the knocker. There was som

that she would be rather taken aback by the splendor to which he was bringing her; but Sarah only trembled and

ointments, but which was evidently the grand reception-room of the establishment. Nothing could have been more desolate than the room, save that it was redeemed by two narrow windows which overlooke

within as she saw the branches of a young apple-tree, flushed with the first tende

r father to receive the little Frenchwoman who came in with a f

was fresh as a rose-very charming-in a few months they should see-that was all-Monsieur Jones need have no care about his child-Madame would undertake to finish her education very soon-music, of course-an instrument had just come from Europe on purpose for

t having uttered a single last word of farewell, or held his daughter one moment against the h

ndemned to. It was a comfort that the windows overlooked that beautiful garden. That night, at a long, narrow table, set out with what the unsuspecting girl at first considered the preliminaries of a meal, Sarah met the score of young ladies wh

he most lonely. Madame's patronizing kindness only sufficed to bring th

r if her heart ached, the brain must work; her father had made great sacrifices to give

mothering the haunting wish for home

ement. Every hen's nest in the neighborhood was robbed before the eggs were cold, and its contents transported to the store. As for butter, there was a

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