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Clovernook, or, Recollections of our neighborhood in the West

Cary, Alice (1820-1871)
  
[book-plate]
  
[title page]
  
CONTENTS.

  
THE PAST.
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MRS. WETHERBE'S QUILTING PARTY.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
 5. 
V.
 6. 
VI.
 7. 
VII.
 8. 
VIII.
 9. 
IX.
 10. 
X.
 11. 
XI.
 12. 
XII.
 13. 
XIII.
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ZEBULON SANDS
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
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LEARNING CONTENT.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
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TWO VISITS.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
 5. 
V.
 6. 
VI.
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UNCLE WILLIAM'S.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
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UNCLE CHRISTOPHER'S.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
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MY VISIT TO RANDOLPH
 1. 
I.
 2. 
IV.
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WHY MOLLY ROOT GOT MARRIED.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
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CHARLOTTE RYAN.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
 5. 
V.
 6. 
VI.
  
THE SUICIDE.
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THE COLLEGIAN'S MISTAKE.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
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THE DIFFERENCE, AND WHAT MADE IT?
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
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ELSIE'S GHOST STORY.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
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WARD HENDERSON.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
 5. 
V.
  
CONCLUSION.

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4. IV.

When our excellent neighbor had completed the narrative respecting
her late guest, and bestowed fit tributes on the respective
characters of the wife and the husband, she sat a moment in
profound silence, and then, as if she had said Be gone! to all
gloomy recollections, her face resumed its wonted glow, and her
eyes sparkled with secrets until now suppressed, and at the
thoughts of surprise and consternation she was likely to introduce
into my uncle's family—surprise and consternation in no degree
associated with real evil, or the good woman would have been
the last being in the world to feel a satisfaction in their creation
or anticipation. Suddenly interrupting the third persual of the
leading article in the week's “Republican,” she said, “Did you
know, Old Mr. and Mrs. Courtney move to town to-day.”

“Do tell,” said uncle William, looking very much pleased, “I
wonder what they are going to do with their house?”

“Well, I hardly know,” replied Mrs. Widdleton, looking slyly
at me; “some say one thing and some say another; but I have
my own thoughts. I do n't think Edward Courtney went to
B— for nothing; and I do n't think he will come back without
a certain little woman, whose name begins with Delia, for a
wife.”

Cousin Jane dropped half the stitches off one needle, and uncle
William opened the paper so suddenly that he tore it, which he
said he would not have done for a fip; and he forgot what quarter
the moon was in, and, on being questioned, said he did n't
know as he cared.

Mrs. Widdleton was right; for the next evening I went with
her to call on the bride, my friend carrying with her a custard-pie
and a loaf of plum-cake. We found the happy pair taking

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tea at a little table, with their faces glowing with sympathetic
devotion; and when last I saw them they were as happy as
then—lovers yet, though they had been married a dozen years.

A year after my visit I heard, by chance, that Mrs. Hevelyn
was dead, and the fragment of her life and love that I have
written, is all I know.

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