A winding strip of road was
visible, at no great distance, amid the undulations of the open ground;
and along this strip the stalwart figure of Mr. Vanstone was now
easily recognizable, returning to the house from his morning walk. He
flourished his stick gayly, as he observed his eldest daughter at the
window. She nodded and waved her hand in return, very gracefully and
prettily--but with something of old-fashioned formality in her manner,
which looked strangely in so young a woman, and which seemed out of
harmony with a salutation addressed to her father.
The hall-clock struck the adjourned breakfast-hour. When the minute hand
had recorded the lapse of five minutes more a door banged in the bedroom
regions--a clear young voice was heard singing blithely--light, rapid
footsteps pattered on the upper stairs, descended with a jump to the
landing, and pattered again, faster than ever, down the lower flight.
In another moment the youngest of Mr. Vanstone's two daughters (and two
only surviving children) dashed into view on the dingy old oaken stairs,
with the suddenness of a flash of light; and clearing the last three
steps into the hall at a jump, presented herself breathless in the
breakfast-room to make the family circle complete.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25