"
Miss Featherstone, although prejudiced at first against Colonel
Pinckney, grew by degrees to like him. His manner to her was grave and
respectful; he carried off the children, quite conveniently sometimes,
when she was almost worn out with fatigue; and the air of friendly
interest with which his dark eyes rested upon her was in a manner
comforting. Their little interviews, although she was unconscious of
it, gave zest to her life.
One cold morning, as she sat before breakfast with little Harry on her
lap, warming his hands before the dining-room fire, Colonel Pinckney
exclaimed, "Miss Featherstone, did you have the care of that child last
night?"
"Yes," as she pressed the fat little hands in hers.
"And dressed him this morning?"
"Why, yes. Colonel Pinckney, excuse me: why shouldn't I?"
"Virginia is the most selfish human being I ever knew in my life," he
burst forth. "You, after working like a slave during the day, cannot
even have your night's rest undisturbed. I'll speak to her, and insist
upon it that this state of things shall not continue any longer."
Miss Featherstone looked annoyed: "Mr. Pinckney"--she never would, if
she remembered it, call him "Colonel"--"I beg that you will do nothing
of the kind.
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