But he never was baulked. At thirty-five he
reigned supreme in his own world. No one ever crossed him, unless it were
Master Scott, and of course no one could be seriously angry with him,
poor dear young man! He was so gentle and kind. A faint, maternal smile
relaxed Biddy's grim lips. She became aware that the white world below
was a-flood with sunshine.
The snowy mountains that rose against the vivid blue were dream-like in
their beauty. Where the sun shone upon them, their purity was almost too
dazzling to behold. It was a relief to rest the eyes upon the great
patches of pine-woods that clothed some of the slopes.
"I wonder if Miss Isabel will be happy here," mused Biddy.
That to her mind was the only thing on earth that really mattered,
practically the only thing for which she ever troubled her Maker. Her own
wants were all amalgamated in this one great desire of her heart--that
her darling's poor torn spirit should be made happy. She had wholly
ceased to remember that she had ever wanted anything else. It was for
Miss Isabel that she desired the best rooms, the best carriages,
the best of everything. Even her love for Master Scott--poor dear young
man!--depended largely upon the faculty he possessed for consoling and
interesting Miss Isabel. Anyone who did that earned Biddy's undying
respect and gratitude. Of the rest of the world--save for a passing
disapproval--she was scarcely aware.
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