Scratch! scratch! scratch! went the pen over the lines with
inconceivable rapidity, the writer occasionally glancing over his
left arm at the document he was copying. The tortoise-shell cat sat
at her master's feet with an air of self-importance and a look which
seemed to say, "woe be to him who dare to drive me hence."
But there was another within the walls of Sunnybank who was also
awake--Mrs. Montgomery.
She leaned on the side of her couch and listened to the faint sound
that at intervals came from the office: "Well, well; what will be
the end God alone knows! Matilda Verne, you will one day see the
fruits of your folly and taste them in all their bitterness!"
"I must divert him from such work. It is killing the man by inches;
surely there is some way out of the difficulty--where there's a will
there's a way.'"
Mrs. Montgomery said the last words with a will--aye, with the
spirit of a Leonidas, and hastily arranging her toilet descended to
the silent, deserted parlors. She evinced no surprise when
confronted by Mr. Verne. She had been calmly awaiting his presence.
"It is too early for you to be astir, Hester. I would think you
might take things easy when you could.
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