She vented the irritation of her
embarrassment on the innocent Jeanette.
"Come away," she whispered crossly. "Can't you see we're not
wanted here?"
She drew Jeanette out, leaving Thyra rocking Damaris in her arms,
and crooning over her like a mother over her child.
When December had grown old Damaris was still with Thyra. It was
understood that she was to remain there for the winter, at least.
Thyra could not bear her to be out of her sight. They talked
constantly about Chester; Thyra confessed all her anger and
hatred. Damaris had forgiven her; but Thyra could never forgive
herself. She was greatly changed, and had grown very gentle and
tender. She even sent for August Vorst and begged him to pardon
her for the way she had spoken to him.
Winter came late that year, and the season was a very open one.
There was no snow on the ground and, a month after Joe Raymond's
boat had been cast up on the Blue Point sand shore, Thyra,
wandering about in her garden, found some pansies blooming under
their tangled leaves. She was picking them for Damaris when she
heard a buggy rumble over the bridge and drive up the White lane,
hidden from her sight by the alders and firs. A few minutes
later Carl and Cynthia came hastily across their yard under the
huge balm-of-gileads. Carl's face was flushed, and his big body
quivered with excitement. Cynthia ran behind him, with tears
rolling down her face.
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