So best, I felt! Bertie was only a lip-deep scoffer. Her heart was open
to conviction yet, and, when the time came, I believed that the seed
sown in old days would germinate and bear good harvest. All was chaos
now!
Shall I keep on with Bertie, now that the theme has possession of me,
and go back to the others when she is finally dismissed? I think this
will be wisest, especially as my space is small, and mood concentrative
rather than erratic.
Let us pass over, then, five eventful years, during which the sorrows
and changes I have spoken of had taken place, and Wentworth had fixed
his home in the vicinity of San Francisco.
I had heard of Bertie in the interval as a successful _debutante_ as a
reader of Shakespeare, and had received her sparse and sparkling letters
confirming report, truly "angel visits, few and far between."
At last one came announcing her intention of visiting California
professionally, and sojourning beneath my roof while in San Francisco.
It was to be a stay of several weeks.
She was accompanied and sometimes assisted by Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer,
professional readers both--the last distinguished more for grace and
beauty, even though now on the wane of life, than she ever had been for
talent, but eminently fitted, both by education and character, for a
guide and companion.
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