Gratia's Trials — page 32: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GRATIA’S TRIALS. 23 ‘“Of course you must!” said Mr. Kempfield, author- itatively. Raymond glanced timidly at his sister, as if her sanction were needful to this new state of affairs. ‘Father !” cried Gratia, with a stifling lump rising in her throat, and a sudden sensation as if all the blood in her pulses were turned to stinging pins and needles, ‘‘is this true?” ‘*T was married to her half an hour ago,” said Mr. Kempfield, doggedly. Gratia looked at Almira, and the slant light of triumph flashed from her narrow eyes, in spite of the middle-aged bride's affected meekness, Almira had conquered, and both felt that it was So. ‘‘Why don’t you speak to your mother!” said Mr. Kemp- field. ‘‘She is not my mother,” said Gratia, huskily. ‘‘ 1Zy mother has not yet been buried three months.” Ira Kempfield felt the reproach keenly—it made him angry. ‘© Vou shall speak to Almira,” he said, almost savagely, ‘‘ or you are no daughter of mine. ” ‘My dear Mr. Kempfield,” smoothly interposed the bride, ‘you are so hasty. Remember how sudden this must seem to the children. Wait a little, and dear Gratia and I will be the best of friends.” There was 2 moment or two of dead silence, and then Mrs. Kempfield took Raymond on her lap, and began kissing and petting him ostentatiously. Fou'll \ove me, darling, won’t you?” she cooed. ‘‘ Foul call me mother?” ‘‘But you aren’t mother,” said the child. ‘‘ You are Cousin Almira.” “Just hear the dear little fellow, Ira,” laughed the bride. Gomichooks (e(@) =|