By the same sort of
sorcery the town knew in another day that she had refused me, and
all the wise heads wagged and bore witness that they could have
told me so. What did I, a common carpenter, want at the "castle"?
That was what they called her father's house. He had other plans
for his pretty daughter.
As for Elizabeth, poor child! she was not yet seventeen, and was
easily persuaded that it was all wrong; she wept, and in the goodness
of her gentle heart was truly sorry; and I kissed her hands and
went out, my eyes brimming over with tears, feeling that there was
nothing in all the wide world for me any more, and that the farther
I went from her the better. So it was settled that I should go
to America. Her mother gave me a picture of her and a lock of her
hair, and thereby roused the wrath of the dowagers once more; for
why should I be breaking my heart over Elizabeth in foreign parts,
since she was not for me? Ah, but mothers know better! I lived on
that picture and that curl six long years.
[Illustration: The Picture her Mother gave me]
One May morning my own mother went to the stagecoach with me to see
me off on my long journey.
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